


Take Me Over

by silverneko9lives0



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Bullying, Established Relationship, Homophobia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-09 23:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 33,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frodo Baggins is sixteen, gay, and bored with his mundane life. It’s not all bad. He’s two supportive fathers, well off, and manages to somehow survive high school even when his cousin tries to turn the school against him for being gay and having gay parents…</p><p>Aragorn Earendilion has much to live up to. His late father was a Master Sergeant in the military, was adopted by a distant cousin when he was five, and for the most part managed to stay under the radar as a homosexual most of his life. When he transfers schools and finds a boy in his class being bullied…well, no one ever said that Aragorn had to just stand aside, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EaglesGirl21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EaglesGirl21/gifts).



 

_Frodo_

The LED alarm clock screamed in Frodo’s ear. He groaned, fumbling to turn it off, hand slapping his bedside table. He found the snooze button and gratefully relaxed his neck muscles, burrying his face into the pillow again.

Ten minutes later, the clock wakes him again.

_Fuck._

Frodo lifted his head, blinking his eyes to focus them. Seven twenty-one AM.

_Oh goody…school starts in—_

Swearing under his breath, Frodo untangled himself from the bed sheets, tripping over his back pack to get to the dresser and throw something on. Fresh boxers replaced the old ones. He pulled on yesterday’s jeans and a white t-shirt declaring in black, slashing letters _Stay Reckless_ before grabbing his charcoal black hoodie. He almost fell on his butt when grabbing a pair of white short necked socks and his black suede combat boots.

He seized his back pack without checking the clock, skipping two steps at a time.

“Dad?”

“About time. Heads up.” An apple flew at him and he caught it before a hand seizes his neck and directs him to the car.

“Long night?”

“I need coffee…”

“You do _not_ need coffee, Frodo Baggins,” Bilbo sighed, pulling out of the parking lot in a rather relaxed state. Frodo still felt antsy, though if his dad was calm then he could be calm too.

“Says you,” Frodo mumbles under his breath, slouching in the passenger’s seat.

Staying up till three AM seemed like a good idea the night before and he managed to not wake either Bilbo or Thorin by plugging his headphones into his computer and playing _League of Legends_ with Fili until his cousin swore and reminded him it was a school night. For the both of them.

Frodo had scoffed and declared that sleep was for the weak. Fili reminded him that if Frodo woke up late, it’d be his ass and then it’d be Fili’s when Bilbo finds out.

Frodo would rather his ass remain as it is, so he bade goodnight to Fili, turned his computer off, and climbed into bed for what felt like…an hour before his alarm clock woke him.

Bilbo drops him off at the front of the school before circling around to the teacher’s lot. The courtyard is still full of students of various levels in their education. Nailed to the outer wall in giant brass letters is _Hobbiton High School._

Frodo runs his hand through his hair trying to make his untamed curls a little more presentable.

If it were possible, he could easily say he was Bilbo’s and Thorin’s biological child. In height and stature, he resembled his dad: on the short side, big feet, button nose, and annoyingly curly hair that brushed against his neck. His pallor, on the other hand, matched Pop: deep blue eyes, black hair, and pale skin.

He entered the doors and goes to his locker.

“Looked in a mirror lately?”

He glared at Sam. Then peered behind him. “Morning, Rosie!”

Sam swore, spinning around. No Rosie in sight. Frodo snorted, opening his locker.

“Not cool, Frodo.”

“Neither is pointing out my state of appearance. Considering I managed to get dressed in ten minutes, I’m feeling rather good about the way I look today. Besides, there’s not really much I can do about my hair as you well know.” He flicked a curl behind Sam’s ear, earning a slap to his hand.

“Relax, I don’t go for strait guys," Frodo said, rubbing the stinging flesh.

“Hilarious," Sam muttered, rolling his eyes.

Frodo shrugged, tucking a black Bic pen behind his ear before pulling his notebook for English and his copy of _Of Mice and Men_ tucked under his arm. “Ready?”

“Yeah…you know, I never tire of hearing how much you despise having your dad’s class first in the day.”

Frodo sighed. Sometimes, he did. He knew he did complain about having Bilbo for a teacher _and_ a parent. There was simply no breathing room for him. For most, school was where a guy could get some breathing room from their parents. Not so for Frodo. But the days he complains are usually the days he is at odds with Bilbo or Thorin. And those days are rare. His fathers are not reckonable and it'd be foolhardy to try. Besides, Frodo made it a priority to stay on his fathers' good sides.

“I don’t, you jerk," Frodo said, shoving Sam. "You just want to get me in trouble with him. You can leave that to Lotho, you know.”

“Not that Lotho even reads,” Sam said, following Frodo into the classroom.

“True. He isn’t even in Dad’s class." 

Frodo set his things on his desk and sat down. Sam turned around in his seat to continue their conversation. Bilbo’s desk was in the back, the white board where he taught in the front and Frodo wanted to try and be as unnoticeable as possible. Ergo, he sat in the middle row toward the wall closest to the door beside a poster of Charles Dickens with a quote: _No one who can read, ever looks at a book, even unopened on a shelf, like one who cannot_. 

"Honestly, I’m not going to complain. I’d rather him cause trouble for me _outside_ of classes where I at least have a chance of getting a punch in.”

“Meaning it’d have to A, be off school grounds, and B, nowhere near your parents. It’s not too late to sic your cousins on them.”

“I can handle Lotho on my own. I don't need to involve Fili and Kili,” Frodo said. “Where I can’t match him in brawn, I can outdo him in intellect.”

“Lotho’s pretty big.”

“Yep.”

“And a bit of a pig.”

Frodo frowned. “While I agree, you’ve never said that before. What’d he do this time?”

“Nothing that Merry and Pippin can’t handle.”

“Ah. Good for them.”

Bilbo stepped in after the bell rang, talking to a new student. He was taller than most of the students in the classroom. He stood straight, backpack hanging off one shoulder. His ebony hair was long and tied back in a half tail in the center of the back of his head. His jeans were a little baggy and his sneakers scuffed against the floor. He wore a loose button down shirt, the collar of a t-shirt poked out beneath it.

Bilbo nodded at something he said before looking past him at Frodo, who tried to shrink. "Good morning, everyone, to a new day at prison," Bilbo said, earning one weak chuckle. Teachers. _Why_ do they even _attempt_ to be funny? "As it's first period, you all get the honor of welcoming a new student." The boy bit his lip, staring at the floor to hide the tinge to his cheeks. Frodo pitied him. Couldn't he just take his seat and be done with it? Nope.

"'M Aragorn," he said. It was almost inaudible and Frodo almost didn't catch his name. Surely no one past Frodo really heard him. Seeing he was going to say nothing else, Bilbo scanned the rows for a vacant seat. His eyes fixed on Frodo who treid to shrink.

“Frodo!”

“Yeah?”

"Sit up a little straighter," Bilbo said. Frodo blushed, fixing his posture and ignoring the giggles from his classmates. Aragorn took the desk, trying to sink into it as though consciously aware that his height could be incriminating.

Bilbo closed the door and the hour began with a reading quiz on the text. Frodo thought it was evil, always giving a daily reading quiz. But to Bilbo, it allowed him to know who actually took his class seriously and the more serious the student the better they did, extra work aside.

For Frodo, there really wasn’t much of an option when one parent was a teacher and the other the owner of a mining company in the next town over. He really didn’t have any excuse to not be passing his classes shy of dying in the hospital. He studied and studied hard or lost his rights to the computer, his phone would be confiscated, and any contact with the outside world would be limited to school.

To be fair, Thorin raised Frodo’s cousins the same way. It was tough, but at least he was free to choose where he went to college, the job he’d get, etc.

He noted that the new kid was exempt from the quiz, picking at dirt under his nails. English teachers can show mercy when they wish it. Such is the case with this kid. Most times, Frodo knew, you just had to grovel and hope they’d be satisfied with your groveling. For Frodo, the groveling tended to be accompanied by agreeing to take on extra chores.

Ten minutes later, Bilbo called time and the papers were passed up to the front beginning a discussion on the different symbols in the book. Frodo spoke only when no one else did. Usually, he could just leave it to Merry, who adored Bilbo’s classes.

When Bilbo’s back is turned, Frodo glances at the clock hanging on the opposite wall. He isn’t the only one who does so, so it’s not _that_ bad…right?

He feels eyes on him and turns to Aragorn. Aragorn's a moment too slow, shifting his gaze from Frodo back to the white board. His ears and cheeks are slightly pink and Frodo narrows his eyes at him, unsure how to translate the moment before facing the board again.

The bell rings. Bilbo barks out the homework assignment over the rustling papers. Frodo takes a moment to write it down and makes sure the assignment matches what was written hastily on the board before mingling into the sea of bodies moving to their next classes.

“Joy. History,” Sam muttered as he traded his supplies for the necessary ones.

“Could be worse,” Frodo said, twisting the in-built locker’s combination. “It could be math—”

He was shoved into his locker, almost jamming his fingers and his nose banged agianst the metal. He gasped and his eyes watered involuntarily from the pain. He backed away from his locker, hand over his stining nose, nevermind the twinge of pain in the tips of his fingers.

“Sackville! What the fuck?!” Sam shouted at the laughing boys, supporting Frodo's shoulders as though worried Frodo might collapse. “You okay, Frodo?”

“Yeah,” he groaned, lowering his hand. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“Fuck,” Frodo sighed, glancing at his hand. Blood covered his palm and between his fingers. “Nose?”

“It’s gushing.”

“Shit. Where are tissues when you need them?”

“I’ll let Mrs. Chubb know you’ll be by in a bit. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Frodo agreed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “See you in a few minutes.” He ran to the men’s room and ripped toilet paper from a stall with one hand. He glanced in the mirror. His eyes were red rimmed from the involuntary tears and his face was red where he banged into the metal, especially around his nose and lips. He pinched his nose closed, breathing through his mouth.

He heard the door open and closed his eyes when he saw his dad’s reflection in the mirror. “Frodo?”

“It’s nothing,” he lied. “I’m fine. It’s just a bloody nose.”

Bilbo tiled his head toward him, examining the damage. “Lotho?”

Caught. “Yeah. Sam’s telling Mrs. Chubb.”

“Okay. Come on.” Bilbo tore paper towels from the dispenser, handing them to Frodo, leading him out of the bathroom toward the nurse’s office. “I’ve got to get back to class,” he said once there, “You’ll be all right?”

“Yeah.”

He really didn’t need to be kissed, but if it comforted Bilbo, then he’d allow the press of lips to his forehead. After that, Frodo was in Dr. Oin’s care.

“Your dad,” Dr. Oin said, glancing at the red nose, “is a real worry wart.”

Frodo laughed. “Yeah, but I survive somehow.”

He closed his eyes, feeling woozy. Dr. Oin seized his shoulder.

“Lean forward. That’s it.”

Frodo wondered if they’d manage to convince Principal Bracegirdle to expel Lotho this time. Frodo sighed. It was not likely. They’ll probably just get him another detention or, if they’re _really_ lucky, suspension.

For now, until the day Lotho finally did something that the principal could not ignore, Frodo would just have to bear through every beating, verbal bashing, and—worse than the other two—the frustrated fury and sorrow in Dad’s eyes every time he found him after Lotho attacked.

Frodo really didn’t understand why it bothered anyone that his parents were gay. Or that he was also gay. Thorin tried to explain to him that there would always be someone who would be terrified of him and attack him for it…it just…it didn’t feel right.

It was as low as attacking someone for having a different skin tone, or having brown eyes and black hair rather than blonde and blue eyed, or—

He sighed.

It didn’t matter. Right now, he just wanted to go home and crawl back into bed.


	2. Chapter 2

_Aragorn_

The boy—Frodo, if Aragorn remembered his name correctly—ran past him, pinching his nose despite the continuous flow of blood dripping out it and down his chin. He wanted to go after him, to make sure he was all right.

But it was still his first day at Hobbiton and he didn’t think it’d do him any good to be late to his classes. Especially after the promise he made Elrond to actually _behave_. (As if he didn’t before! So what if he got into fights more often than he ought to? He didn’t do anything he didn’t feel he needed to do.)

He headed to the gym for P.E.

“…Crying like a baby!” a rotund boy cackled in the locker room. “Probably ran to Daddy again.”

Was he talking about Frodo?

“Serves him right. Bad enough to let fags attend school here—”

Aragorn’s hands shook. He wanted to punch them. Instead, he grabbed his left wrist in a tight grip in his right hand. _Don’t cause trouble on the first day,_ he reminded himself. _Find another way._

“All right!” Mr. Fundinson bellowed. “Ten laps!”

A trill of a whistle sent them running. After which, Aragorn was paired with another boy to stretch with.

“Never seen you before,” the boy panted. “Just transfered?”

“Yes. Name’s Aragorn.”

“Boromir.”

Aragorn’s eyes shifted to the rotund boy who had been badmouthing Frodo.

Boromir hummed. “Yeah. That’s Lotho Sackville-Baggins. Don’t mind him. No one really likes him, save other homophobes in the school who’ve no real place here.”

“Why _is_ he here then?”

“Because the Principal’s his grandfather,” Boromir said. They switched.

“Does he attack anyone?”

“Only his cousin, Frodo Baggins,” Boromir said. “Which is low. Frodo’s cool.”

“Why attack his family? Is Frodo gay?”

“Lotho would probably attack him even if he wasn’t because Frodo’s parents definitely are. Though…I swear a guy has to have a death wish if he attacks Frodo. Lotho’s lucky he’s only had to deal with Mr. Baggins so far…”

“The other dad?”

“Yeah,” Boromir said. “Captain Oakenshield owns a mining company or something and is a retired army captain. We don’t know much about him, but…” Boromir stood, cracking his neck.

Aragorn fought down a wince, rubbing his own neck. "Oakensheild?"

Boromir shrugged. “Probably a nickname or a byname like the ones they gave out in the middle ages."

Aragorn walked beside Boromir as they broke into teams. “Frodo had a bloody nose last I saw him.”

“Lotho’s doing probably.”

He smirked, glancing at Boromir. “Wanna help me make Lotho pay?”

Boromir grinned. “Sure.” They braced themselves to run for the red rubber balls.

“There is only one rule,” Mr. Fundinson barked. “Dodge. Get hit, yer out!”

“Aim for the face,” Aragorn whispered.

_Tweet._

Aragorn and Boromir jumped for balls. Both seized and threw. Both balls flew straight for Lotho, slamming into his face. The damage, over all, wasn’t that satisfying, but he was out and his nose was bright red, though not bleeding. The difference between a rubber ball and a metal locker left Aragorn feeling slightly unsatisfied.

“ _Below_ the neck boys, and above waist,” Mr. Fundinson snapped.

“Sorry,” Boromir and Aragorn called, successfully miming contrite. When Fundinson’s back was turned, they smirked.

“That was good," Boromir said.

“Not as much as I thought, but it’s a start,” Aragorn sighed.

“Why’d you transfer anyway?”

“Expelled for fighting at my old school,” he admitted, throwing the ball at another student, hitting them in the shoulder. “In my defense, it was defense.”

“Of yourself or of another?”

“Another. I don’t like bullies. I’ve no tolerance for them whatsoever.”

Boromir hummed. Someone rammed into him and he stumbled. At first Aragorn thought the newcomer was a girl, but on closer inspection, he was clearly male—just gorgeous in a rather feminine way.

“Legolas, get off!”

“Why? Who’s this and what the hell was that whole thing with Lotho? Not that he doesn’t deserve it but you know…”

“Yeah. Aragorn, this is Legolas. Legolas, Aragorn. Now get _off._ We’ll explain after class.”

“Fine. Left flank.”

“Huh— _ow_!”

“I told you…”

“Shut up, Legolas.”

#

“If I had a hat,” Legolas said, following them into the hallway, “I would tip it to you, gentlemen. You have made my day.”

“Well, I’m glad you agree he deserved it, Legolas,” Boromir sighed.

Legolas rolled his eyes. “Of course I agree! Frodo’s adorable—”

“Yes, yes, you worship the ground he walks on,” Boromir snapped. “No need to gush. And yes, I’ve met him. Yes, he’s cute for a guy, but I don’t swing that way.”

“Suit yourself. And I do _not_ worship the ground he walks on. He's just huggable. Perfect height for cuddles."

“Do you like him, Legolas?” Aragorn asked. Legolas turned to him, grin falling. “Sorry if I offended you. I just assumed that you did.”

“I like him. Not enough to ask him out, but yeah. I like him,” Legolas said, twirling a strand of his flaxen hair between his fingers. “My dad and Frodo’s pop were in the army together. They never got along. My dad gets along with Mr. Baggins, though, so he usually manages to put up with the Captain and I grew up with Frodo, since we live a couple blocks from each other. But no, we're just friends. We like each other, but we aren't together. Nothing wrong with just being friends. What’s your next class?”

“Algebra Ten,” Aragorn said tentatively. He checked the schedule he taped to his new locker. “Yeah. Algebra. And Captain?”

Boromir frowned. “I just told you…”

“Right, retired army captain, Oakensheild,” Aragorn tucked his books under his arm and closed his locker. “It’s been a long day…and it’s not even third period.”

Legolas patted his back. “You get to see Frodo again at least. He’s in class with us.”

“With _you_ two,” Boromir said. “I’ve got study hall next.”

“Isn’t Algebra 10 required?”

“I took it as a summer course to get it out of the way. I’m in Calculus which is my last class of the day.”

Aragorn winced. “That must suck.”

“It kind of does…” Boromir agreed. “But it's also the last math class I have to take in High School, so I've no complaints. Well, find me at lunch in a couple hours. Bye.”

Aragorn followed Legolas down the hall to the math room. The teacher’s desk stood beside the window, front facing rows of individual desks. The board was an old chalk board and Aragorn cringed involuntarily at an internal sound of nails on a chalkboard. He preferred white boards and dry erase markers. Less scratching. He approached the teacher’s desk where Mr. Broadbeam sat, overlooking previous assignments as he waited for everyone to settle in and for the bell to ring.

“Mr. Broadbeam?”

He looked up, dark eyes meeting Aragorn’s blue. He wore a fur cap on his head. He grinned in a friendly manner. “Call me Bofur, lad. You’re Aragorn Earendilion?”

 “Yes, Sir.”

“Sir?!” Bofur's eyes widened in mock horror.

Aragorn blushed. “It’s a reflex…I guess.”

Bofur chuckled. “No worries. We just started word problems today. Go ahead and take a seat.”

Most of the free seats were in the front row. Legolas pointed at the seat to his left. Aragorn accepted the invitation, not realizing he was, again, sitting beside Frodo until he had already taken his seat and sat down. Frodo’s face seemed a little red, his nostrils stained with dry blood, and his nose still rather red, but otherwise, he was fine. He had zipped his hoodie up all the way. Aragorn guessed it was jto hide the blood stains on his white shirt.

The class went by slowly and Aragorn tapped his pencil against the desk, wondering how _anyone_ manage to pass a class where a teacher talked a mile a minute about anything _but_ math.

Aragorn glanced at Frodo again. His lip was caught between his teeth and he stared at the board as though willing it to crack down the middle. Frodo shifted his gaze to his paper, now willing _that_ to catch fire. His curls bounced slightly as he moved his head and his cheeks were slightly sunken in as though he had sucked on a lemon and didn’t want anyone to know.

“Not your favorite subject?” Aragorn asked.

“No. Never managed to do as well in Math as in my other classes.” Frodo slouched, staring at the board again. “I like Bofur, but…”

Aragorn peered at the blank graph paper in front of Frodo. “Well, I’m not great at English. I’ll probably die in your dad’s class."

“Ah, so you’ve heard already?”

“Boromir and Legolas are in my PE class. We talked.”

“Well then, how about this: you help me with Math. I’ll help you with English. Deal?”

Frodo held his hand out to him. It was slimmer than Aragorn’s own hand. He grasped it, startled by the firmness of Frodo’s shake.

Aragorn swallowed. “Deal.”

Frodo grinned and if Aragorn was set to admit it, he’d think his heart skipped.

“Okay, help me with what’s on the board."


	3. Chapter 3

_Frodo_

“Where’d you get that pin?” Frodo asked. Aragorn gave him a blank look. “The one on your coat’s collar.”

“Oh. It’s my dad’s. He was a Master Sergeant.”

“Cool.”

“It’d be cooler if he was alive.”

Frodo sucked in his breath. First because he felt like a dick. Then because his nose stung. Chili slipped off his plastic spoon back into the recycable paper bowl and he rubbed the tender flesh covered cartilage gingerly to try and aleviate the pain. _I’m such an idiot._ “Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t know,” Aragorn said. “And it was nearly fifteen years ago. I don’t really remember my dad, so I’m not bothered by it. I’d have liked to know him, but…” he shrugged. “I guess I’m used it. I live with my uncle and my cousins kind of _are_ my siblings. Tends to happen when you’re adopted.”

 _We’re both adopted. Okay. I can work with that._ “I suppose so, though calling my cousins my siblings is a little hard considering they were both in high school when I was adopted.”

“I thought you might be—er…”

“Boromir or Legolas?”

“Both.”

“Geez,” Frodo leaned back in his seat. “Those two are a pair of old ladies!”

“Hey!” Legolas snapped, sitting beside Aragorn. “I resent that!”

“You gossiped to Aragorn at PE about me.”

“How can we not? You’re the son of Captain Oakenshield.”

Frodo stuck his tongue out, pretending to gag. “Sounds like a douche-y superhero. Pop’s _way_ too badass for something so poncy.”

“Says you,” Legolas snorted. “I think ‘Captain Oakenshield’ fits someone like your pop.” Frodo rolled his eyes, stirring the chili again. Should he eat it? What if it was human flesh instead? He was certain the lunch lady wasn’t trustworthy. “At least tell Aragorn why he’s called that!”

He glared at Legolas.

“Actually I am curious,” Aragorn said.

Frodo stared at him, blinking. He massaged the back his neck and sighed, recalling the story. “My pop dove behind a petrified oak tree while being shot at, reloaded his gun and shot his assailants dead center in the head. He was in…Azanulbizar, Moria, I think…yeah. Moria.”

“Points for dramatic effect,” Legolas groaned. “You’ll just have to get the Capt'n to tell you the story.”

“But it’s embellished beyond comprehension!" Frodo snapped at Legolas, who snorted. "He said he had as many as ten guys shooting at him! Tell me, how does someone get out of that alive?” Considering his argument finished, Frodo dared to eat the chili. It could’ve been worse.

It could have been completely inedible.

Still, he made a mental note to wake up early enough to make his own lunch tomorrow.

“Your pop sounds cool, though,” Aragorn said.

“When it suits him he can be awesome. Most of the time, he’s usually on my ass about homework and grades. You know. Parent stuff.”

“What parent isn’t?” Legolas sighed. “Where’re Sam and the others?”

“They went off campus with their girls.”

“They’re on a lunch date?” Legolas asked, batting his eyelashes. “How cute. I _hate_ them," he hended with a growl, stabbing his fork into his salad.

Frodo shrugged. He didn’t particularly care. For now, he was content to be single. Legolas could gripe about not having a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. The blond was quite flexible.

Well, somewhat. It’d be _nice_ to date, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to take on the hassle. He pushed aside the lunch tray. He couldn’t eat another bite. Not because he was full but more because his gag reflex was acting up.

He turned to Aragorn again, leaning on the table. “What’s your next class?”

“World History," Aragorn said.

“Cool. Biology."

Aragorn furrowed his brow. “Right after lunch?”

Frodo shrugged. “I don’t really get squeamish—”

“Hey, Fag!” Frodo groaned, closing his eyes. _Can I_ not _get a fucking break?! Ignore him. Maybe he’ll go away if I do._ Lotho seized his shoulders, shaking him violently. “Don’t be like that, Cuz.”

“Let me go,” Frodo demanded, tensing. He braced himself for whatever Lotho would do. If he got it in his head to slam him into the table, Frodo knew his nose would break. It was still tender from the previous abuse. He could fight back, but he was woefully weaker than Lotho and the likelihood that he'd be expelled was _far_ greater than the likelihood that Lotho would be.

Lotho's grip tightened, digging his nails into Frodo's shoulders. “What’d you say to me?”

“You heard me, Lotho. Let go.”

“Let him go." Frodo’s neck nearly snapped with the force it took to lift his head as fast as he did, staring wide eyed at Aragorn. His face was set in a grimace, arms crossed over his chest, and had stood, chair in front of him and one foot resting on the seat.

Lotho released Frodo. “What’re you going to do about it?”

Aragorn tilted his head to the side and smirked, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. The gesture was small, but he radiated animosity from it. “Next time, _maybe_ break your nose since I wasn’t able to earlier. Just walk away. Trust me. You don’t want to fight me.”

The cafeteria had silenced. All eyes were on them. It was a showdown Frodo had only thought he'd see in movies: the new kid versus the school bully. Were it not happening before him right now, he'd probably laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Time had frozen as Lotho and Aragorn sized each other up. Lotho used his weight and strength to his advantage. He was not as tall as Aragorn, and Aragorn was actually quite sinewy in his build, like Frodo.

"Walk. Away," Aragorn repeated, shifting his foot to the rim of the chair.

Lotho snarled and jumped at Aragorn, who pushed his chair into Lotho. Lotho stumbled back, throwing the chair out of the way, swinging a punch at Aragorn. He ducked, seizing Lotho's shirt and, grunting, flung him to the side. Lotho slammed into a table, startling several freshmen girls, who scurried out of his way. Aragorn grinned, beckoning Lotho into a deeper rage by beckoning him to come at him, brimming arrogance. Lotho jumped at him, swinging his fist in a wide arc. Aragorn blocked him, elbowing him in the mouth and locking his leg between Lotho's, tripping him.

Lotho didn't get up and Aragorn knelt over him. "Had enough?"

Lotho scrambled to his feet, glowering at Aragorn in an attempt to hide his fear even as he fled the cafeteria. "This isn't over!"

"You know where to find me then," Aragorn shot back, flipping him off. The doors slammed behind Lotho and his posse. Aragorn sighed, pulling his seat back and sitting down. He bowed his head, held in his hands. “Damn it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Legolas said. “That was beautiful.”

Frodo’s throat felt tight. Breathing seemed a little more laborious than usual. A blush lit his cheeks. He bit his lip. “Thank you.”

Aragorn looked up. “It’s nothing. I just…” He returned the blush.

Legolas hummed, leering. “I spy with my little eye a budding romance.”

Frodo and Aragorn glared at him.

#

“Did you get into a fight in the cafeteria?” Bilbo asked when they were but five minutes away from the house. The ride home had been uncomfortably silent and Frodo couldn’t fathom why. Now he did and he sighed.

“No. Lotho _tried_ , but I didn’t respond in violence.”

“But someone _did_.”

“Aragorn defended me,” Frodo said, picking at dirt under his nails. “That’s all.”

“Is it?”

He sighed, fighting down his frustration. “Yes, Dad,” he said as calmly as he could. “That’s all.”

“Okay.”

_Welcome back, awkward silence. I’d rather have you here than awkward conversations. Right? Right._

The car slowed to as stop in front of the garage. “When you’re done with homework, would you like to help with dinner?”

Frodo grinned. “Sure,” he exited the car, fixing his bag on his shoulder. “Not much left to do anyway.”

He didn’t have much left to do anyway. He already finished the work he needed to do for Bilbo’s class. And with the lack of real writing assignments or tests burying down on him, Study Hall had felt more productive than it usually was.

“So. Aragorn?” Dad smirked.

Frodo rolled his eyes. “My ribs are aching from laughter.”

“What? It’s a legitimate question. I do have eyes, Frodo. I did see that he’s been staring at you. You’ve been staring at him and it was _he_ who defended you at lunch…if you want to date, go ahead. He's got my vote.”

“So long as I keep up the grades up, right?”

“Of course.”

Frodo removed his shoes and picked them up rather than kick them to join Dad’s by the door. “You know where to find me.”

He jogged up the stairs and entered his room, shutting the door behind him. He sat on his unmade bed, pulling out his books and his iPod, sticking ear buds into his ears and turning his music on before resuming the homework he had been doing before school ended.

_I’m gonna have to hand my math homework to Pop after dinner…crap._

He fell back onto his back in boredom, staring at the ceiling.

Well, at least it was, over all, finished. And Aragorn wasn’t half bad at teaching. He may actually not have to redo _half_ of what was assigned tonight. He felt his cheeks heating and he covered his eyes with a forearm.

Aragorn.

Did he even have the _right_ to look _that cool_ when kicking Lotho's ass? Frodo replayed the fight in his head, reluctantly admitting that Aragorn was a bit sexy when he fought. There was sultry arrogance in his eyes as he fought Lotho, as though he lived for a fight, would _die_ for a fight. Frodo almost moaned when the fact that Aragorn fought for _him_ finally wrapped around his head. His body started a hum, a familiar feeling of arousal building in him.

 _Ooh. No. Bad thoughts. Bad_ , Frodo told himself, biting his lip. _I don't know what his preferences are and it'd be bad to get a crush on a straight guy. I don't need or want that kind of heartache. Besides, I don't know him that well._ He turned on his side, staring at his poster decorated walls. _Think of something else. Anything else. Or_ do _something._

Frodo sat up, groaning, pushing Aragorn out of his mind. Maybe he could convince Dad to make something that took longer than an hour and a half to make. He doubted it. Bilbo was most likely busy grading assignments at the moment.

 _It couldn’t hurt to see if he is_ , Frodo thought, heading downstairs under the pretense of getting a glass of water.

“Done already?” Dad asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I only had Biology left. Study Hall went quickly.”

“Maybe I should talk to your other teacher then,” Bilbo smirked. “We’re clearly getting lax.”

 _More homework? Spare me the inhumanity!_ He shook his head, hoping his horror showed. Sure enough, Bilbo threw his head back and laughed.

“All right, all right. The workload will increase as the semester continues anyway.”

“Teachers are mean. Especially _English_ teachers.”

“English teacher _have_ to be mean," Bilbo said, pretending to be affronted. "Otherwise everyone would think that they could just waltz in and out of class without doing any of the work.” He massaged his temple. “Like the idiot who wrote this—you don’t know them.”

“So long as it’s not me, we’re good. I’d know if it was me anyway. You’d be yelling at me.”

“Yes I would.”


	4. Chapter 4

_Frodo_

Bilbo set the lasagna in the oven when Frodo finished making the salad.

Well, “making” is a relative term. Bilbo, Thorin, and Frodo each had their own preferences as to what goes into salad and it proved easier to just have everyone choose what goes with their lettuce and cabbage. They even had their own preferences for the dressing (which remained in the refrigerator for the time being).

He selected a wine to pair with the drink. Frodo glanced at the bottle with interest. He probably wouldn’t be allowed any since it was a school night, but he usually shared a glass with his parents over the weekend at dinner after he turned fifteen. He didn’t really like wine. Too dry, but he was getting used to the taste a little bit at a time, Saturday by Saturday.

“Which is that one?”

“No, you cannot have a glass tonight.”

Frodo pouted, gathering plates and cutlery. “I _know_ , Dad. I was just asking what it _was_. Not whether I could have some.”

“Chianti,” was the short answer he got as the bottle returned to the cupboard.

A rumbling below alerted them to Thorin’s return as the garage door ascended. Bilbo grinned and went to greet him while Frodo finished setting the table. He stuck his tongue out and faked a cringe when he heard them kiss.

Sounds carried easily through the house, which made it rather eerie when Frodo was home alone and could hear nothing but the echo of his own footsteps.

He rescued the lasagna when the timer beeped, setting it on the table and selecting a knife to cut it with before sitting at the table and waited for his parents to join him, picking at an imaginary speck on his placemat.

Finally they came and he grinned at Thorin.

“Hey Pop,” he greeted, receiving a weary hello in return. The silence was common, broken only by the usual conversation held by his parents…leading up to:

“Lotho attacked you again?”

Frodo nodded. “It was just a bloody nose. Nothing new,” he said, taking a bite to avoid having to elaborate on the spot. Bilbo filled in the details from what he was told earlier. Frodo didn’t want to think about it, if he could help it. What reason was there to think on it?

Lotho was going to continue being a problem. Bilbo made sure he was suspended for the next three weeks, but the solution was only temporary.

Again.

After the table had been cleared, he was sent to fetch his math homework by Thorin so it could be checked. Frodo muttered about the annoyance it was having to _always fucking redo the assignment_ for each wrong question Thorin finds.

“…I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Thorin.”

Frodo paused at the bottom of the stairs, feeling as though he’s been dumped in ice water. _What are they talking about_?

“We agreed we’d not transfer him to another school.”

Frodo sat down on the steps, relieved it wasn’t a fight or a declaration of divorce.

It happened once, when he was a child, but somehow they came to an agreement before the situation really escalated. Whatever happened, Frodo didn’t know all the details. Either way, they overcame that battle and none that had come since had been quite as tumultuous or as frightening.

“I know,” Bilbo replied. “But you aren’t _there_ every time he’s taken to Oin. _I am_. There is only so much I can do and I’ve talked to Bracegirdle enough times…I know Lotho’s his grandson, but it baffles me that he’d stand aside and…I’m just _tired_ , Thorin.”

He heard a chair scrape on the hardwood floor and a quiet sob. “Do you want to call the district superintendant or should I?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo scoffed. “You want to go _straight_ to the superintendant rather than the executive directors?”

“He’s a friend of my father and your mother. He’ll get involved.”

“That man’s eccentric and unpredictable! I can't even fathom what he'll do!"

“But he does a good job even if his methods are a bit…weird. Maybe he’ll take action if we do ask."

Bilbo groaned. "And if he decides against us? What then?"

"He won't. At least consider it, Love.”

A shaky sigh. “I’ll sleep on it.”

Frodo returned to his room, deciding to just wait for Thorin to come get him. He sat on his bed, pulling his legs to his chin and wrapped his arms around them with one hand grasping his wrist while the other still held the crumpling math homework.

A few minutes later, there was a knock. “Frodo?”

“Yeah?”

The door opened and Thorin stepped inside. Frodo straightened and handed him the paper. “You heard?”

“Yeah.”

Thorin stared at him for a moment and Frodo wondered if they would talk about what he heard. He sat at Frodo's desk. "And?"

Frodo shrugged. "What do you want me to say? Lotho's a pain in my ass and he'll always be a pain in my ass because it's not like I can escape him. He's at school. He's at reunions and holidays. It'd be easier to defend myself if I didn't have so many eyes on me. Besides, even if I didn't care about that, the likelihood that I would be able to beat Lotho at a fight is slim. Like you said, transfering isn't an option. It's not likely I'll escape bullies wherever I go to school. And at the very least I do have friends at Hobbiton, which I could lose if I'm transfered. I can't say it's easy because it's not, but at least I'm not letting it get to me like some do. Right?"

Thorin nodded. "All right." He averted his eyes to the sheet, sitting at the desk and picking up a pencil, marking which were wrong with an X.

_Aragorn_

“Aragorn!”

He looks up searching for the owner of the voice who called to him. It’s Legolas. Boromir is already seated at the table talking animatedly with some others. He approaches and room is made for him on the metal bench between Frodo and a redhead.  He takes the seat, greeting Legolas and Boromir.

“The hothead next to you is Gimli,” Legolas said. Gimli glared at Legolas before grinning at Aragorn and shaking his hand.

“I am sorry that your first exposure to our group was blondie.”

“Hey!”

Boromir glared at them both. “Actually…”

“We love you, Bo,” one of the boys beside him interrupted, patting his arm, “But most of us tend to be dragged in by Legolas anyway.”

“I hate you, Pippin,” Boromir snapped.

“You weren’t,” Sam reminded Pippin. “You hang out with us because Frodo and Merry do.”

“But why should I _not_ be with my favorite cousins?”

“Maybe because you’re a freshie,” the boy named Merry, sitting on Pippin’s other side, said with a mean grin.

“And it’d be too fun giving you a swirly were we so inclined,” Frodo added.

Pippin glared at Frodo. “I think I just saw Lotho,” he muttered.

Frodo rolled his eyes and Merry kicked Pippin under the table. “Not funny, Pippin," Merry growled.

“I’m used to it," Frodo sighed.

“You shouldn’t _have_ to be used to it,” Sam snapped. He turned to Pippin. “Besides, Lotho’s suspended, you dolt.”

“Really? When?”

“Yesterday. For almost breaking Frodo’s nose.”

“Geez. I wish my dad could do that…”

“If my dad really had his way,” Frodo reminded them, “Lotho would have been expelled a long time ago and you know it.” He turned to Aragorn. “Sorry about this lot. We tend to bicker and gossip like a bunch of old ladies. Or like the cheerleaders.”

“Hey!” Legolas snapped. “My sister’s a cheerleader! Be nice!”

“ _Adopted_ sister,” Boromir reminded him.

“Irrelevant detail,” Legolas said, taking a swig of Coke. “Very irrelevant detail. Tauriel is not half bad. And she’s captain. Besides, they all _like_ Frodo.”

“They expect me to talk beauty and fashion with them,” Frodo snapped. “I may be gay, but I’m not obsessed with my looks.”

“I don’t mind much,” Aragorn said. “I just wish I could keep up a little better.”

Frodo chuckled, leaning on the table and grinning at him. “Well, we talked about Lotho being a dick, which is common. He’s always a dick. Then we started messing with our resident drag queen—”

“I heard that!” Legolas snapped.

“And his big sister, Tauriel. She’s cheerleading captain and also part of the archery club, graduating this year. She’s my cousin’s girlfriend—”

“Which I never approved of!" Legolas interjected again. "Kili _could_ have asked me first.”

Frodo ignored him again. “And that’s the gist of it if one does not include messing with Pippin. He’s the youngest, so we _tend_ to mess with him more than we should, but he’s cool with it. Most of the time.”

“Expect me to take his side more often than yours, then,” Aragorn said. “I’ve three older siblings. Two brothers and a sister.”

Frodo winced. “And I thought _my_ luck was bad with two older cousins. Kili, Tauriel’s boyfriend, is a college sophomore and Fili graduated two years ago. He works at Pop’s company.”

“Elledan and Elrohir are twins. They’re in college now and Arwen is also going to graduate this year. We all used to go to school together…until I was expelled, but…”

“Why were you expelled?” Frodo asked.

“Fighting,” Aragorn admits. “Which is probably a bigger taboo at Rivendell Prep—”

“You were at Rivendell Prep?!” Frodo stared at him. Aragorn looked around the table. Wide eyes and gaping mouths. “How’d you end up at Hobbiton then?! Isn’t Rivendell _five hours_ away from here?!”

"And elite," Boromir added. "Legolas, what have we done?!"

"I didn't know he was a preppy!" Legolas snapped, tossing a chip at him.

"Well, he's not half bad for a preppy," Sam sighed. "It could've been worse. The jocks might have gotten to him before us."

"Ooh, that'd be bad," Pippin agreed. Aragorn rolled his eyes at their teasing.

“I"m not a preppy."

"You went to Rivendell Prep," Merry said. "You're a preppy by our standards, kung-fu aside. Deal with it."

"It wasn't martial arts. I never learned to fight from a fixed discipline or style, I just _fight_. But to answer your question, Frodo, I’ve an apartment nearby. As for the fighting: I’ve little tolerance for bullies, so…when some guy was getting assaulted for being gay, I couldn’t just let it go and may or may not have beaten the bully up to the point where he was hospitalized. I’m a bit worried about the kid who was attacked, but one of my friends back there, Glorfindel, promised to keep an eye on him for me. Of course, not even my dad was going to let it slide, so he expelled me and transferred me here.”

“You’re dad’s the principal?!”

Legolas slumped in his seat. "Somebody kill me! Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned and brought a preppy into our midsts!"

“He’s the _dean_ ,” Aragorn said, glaring at Legolas.

Legolas sighed, sliding further into his seat. "It's worse than I thought."

Frodo whistled, ignoring Legolas. “And I thought I had it bad with just a _teacher_ for a dad.”

“I’m sure it is worse. He’s probably looking over your shoulder more than you want.”

“He is…and it drives me insane! Half the time, I wish he and Pop didn’t send me _here_. There are plenty of other schools in the area…if only to not have them watch my step. One wrong move and my life will be over!” Frodo sighed dramatically, slumping in his seat in a perfect imitation of Legolas.

Aragorn and Frodo glanced at each other before bursting into laughter, startling the others.

Legolas straightened, glaring at Frodo. “Stop flirting, you too,” he snapped. “I can smell the pheromones at work all the way over here.”

Aragorn tossed a baby carrot at his head, sending Frodo into another laughing fit.

“I think they’re actually trying to kill each other,” Gimli said. “Look how red Frodo is. He’s gonna burst a blood vessel if he doesn’t start breathing soon.” Frodo raised his middle finger at him, still laughing. Gimli shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t swing that way.” The others started laughing too. “Not that you’re not good looking, Frodo, but…”

The bell rang, signaling them that the lunch hour was over. What Aragorn could stuff in his pocket, he took, eating between classes.


	5. Chapter 5

_Aragorn_

He found Frodo by his locker, grinning, and joined him. “Good day?”

“Over all,” he said, smiling at Aragorn. “Any day without Lotho around is a good day, so the next few weeks should be pleasant enough.” They walked alongside each other. “I know it’s only been two days, but how do you like Hobbiton so far?”

“The school or the city?”

“Hobbiton’s more of a district than a city, but sure, let’s go with both.”

“Well, once the awkward feel of being in a very pastel-colored world passes, Hobbiton’s not so bad a place to live. The school, though, I’ll need a little more than two days to give you a definite answer. So far it’s not bad. You and your friends have been very welcoming, jackass moments aside.”

“That’s Legolas for you…he’s very outgoing even when he's being a jackass. Most of us gathered last year because of him. A band of outcasts just hanging out, acting like jackasses, and being ourselves.”

“Yeah, he seems cool.”

Frodo shrugged. “ _Cool_ is relative when it comes to Legolas. Boromir is cool. Gimli is cool. Legolas? He’s more…flamboyant. But that flamboyancy is what gathered us together in the first place…so, any plans tonight? It’s Friday, after all.”

“No, not really. You?”

“I got the house to myself. My parents go out every Friday night, so most likely I’ll watch a movie and binge on popcorn after my homework’s done.”

“Fun.”

“Yeah.”

“I should do homework, but then there would be nothing to do on Saturday but laze about watching porn.” Aragorn blushed. “And that was bad. _Just bad_.”

“You watch porn?” Frodo asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No!" Aragorn said, almost shouting, blushing deeper. "It was supposed to be a joke! It sounded better in my head.”

“Sure it was,” Frodo said, smirking. Aragorn groaned, hiding his face in his hand. “So, what’s your preference? Hentai?”

“No! God no!”

“Size kink?”

“You’re a dick.”

Frodo shrugged. “I’m openly gay. I’m okay with that.”

“I reiterate: dick,” Aragorn snapped. Frodo snorted, climbing onto the wall and sitting there. “What are you doing?”

“It’s a nice day and my dad’s talking to one of his students right now. He’s my ride home, so I have to wait? Why do so inside when the weather’s actually _nice_?”

“I suppose. It’s a bit cold though.”

“We’ll live. And you don’t _have_ to stay and keep me company,” Frodo said, smiling at him.

Aragorn stared at him, swallowing saliva. _Those blue eyes…_ Frodo really did have very beautiful eyes. They looked so bright when he smiled. Aragorn’s gaze lowered to his lips, stretched into a bright smile. Unlike his dry, chapped lips, Frodo’s were smooth, pink, and looked very soft.

“I want to stay,” Aragorn admitted. “It amazes me that someone would bully you just because you’re gay.”

Frodo shrugged. “Lotho might find a reason to bully me anyway, even if I wasn’t. My parents are gay, too, after all, and his upbringing is insanely homophobic.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“No. It’s not,” he agreed, smile gone.

“Would you dad mind if you came home with me?” Aragorn asked, shifting to lean against the wall on his side, arm propped on the wall and brushing against Frodo’s thigh. He felt a little drunk, a buzzing sensation thrumming through his being. “I’d like to know you more, Frodo. If that’s okay.”

Frodo blinked, staring at him. He crossed his legs and a rosy tinge colored his cheeks. “It is—”

“Frodo,” Bilbo said. Aragorn straightened, blushing. Bilbo grinned at him. “Hello, Aragorn.”

“Hi Mr. Baggins,” Aragorn mumbled.

“Time to go?” Frodo asked, jumping down, face just as red.

Bilbo nodded, shifting his eyes from Frodo to Aragorn, his smile turning into a leer. Aragorn bit down a groan. _Somebody kill me now!_

“I’ll see you Monday?” Frodo asked, diverting Aragorn's attention from the English teacher.

“Yeah…” He replied, a little out of breath. Aragorn watched him leave. Frodo glanced over his shoulder at him, and smiled.

 _Monday_ …

_Frodo_

“What was that?” Bilbo asked, smirking.

“Dad,” Frodo groaned, “Don’t. Please don’t.”

Bilbo chuckled. “All right,” he said.

Frodo stared out the window all the way home wondering why Aragorn stared at him the way he did. He couldn’t put a name to it. Desire? Admiration? Lust? He squirmed a bit in his seat, feeling a familiar tingling build through him.

Once home, he escaped to his room, successfully distracting himself with homework. Then in playing _League of Legends_ with Fili. Two hours later, Thorin returns. Frodo heard them rustling around, getting ready for their night out. An hour later, Bilbo pokes his head into the room and the headphones come off.

“Dinner’s in the oven,” he said. “The timer will go off when it’s ready.”

“Okay. Thanks, Dad. Have a good night.” Bilbo smiles at him and the door closes. Frodo waits until he sees the car turn the corner and disappear before heading downstairs to eat. Eating, however, was not as distracting as videogames and his thoughts drifted back to Aragorn.

 _Why_ did _he look at me like that?_ He thought. Toward the end of their conversation, teasing though it may have been at first, Aragorn was definately flirting with him. The leg that Aragorn’s arm pressed against burned from the memory of being touched. The intensity of his stare made Frodo almost squirm.

And his invitation to go home with him…was that a genuine “let’s hang out” or another flirt?

A tease?

Or was there a desire there that Frodo wasn’t sure Aragorn really had?

How could he be sure that Aragorn _liked_ him?

Or if he just wanted him?

Frodo tightened his free hand into a fist and shifted in his seat, trying to relieve the pressure building up in his groin without using his hand.

Sighing, he boxed what he did not finish for dinner and went to take a shower, trying to reason with himself.

He didn’t _know_ Aragorn. True, he was attractive. Very fucking attractive, but…Frodo groaned, pressing his head against the cool tiles. Giving up, he rested his hand against his groin and thrusting his hips against his palm. The tingling became a burn.

He turned the water off and returned to his room, selecting the bottle of lube from his drawer and laid on his bed, squeezing a generous amount of lube into his hand and gripped his hardening cock with a bit off moan.

He licked is lips, sliding his hand up to the head, pressing his thumb into the slit and back down until he was fully hard and a bead of pre-cum squeezed out of his cock. He switched hands, sliding a slick finger inside his hole with a sigh, rocking his hips into his grip as his finger thrust in and out of him before he dared to add another.

 _What would his hands feel like?_ He wondered.

Aragorn’s hands were larger, his fingers longer, but certainly thicker than Frodo’s. He admitted to being fighter, so maybe his hands were a little more callused than Frodo’s. Those eyes, even when laughing, seemed so focused, as though he could see through Frodo’s very being—they set him on fire, penetrated him when they wished to. Aragorn’s lips were chapped, so he could imagine they’d scratch against his skin with each kiss pressed on his body. His breath would tickle, but would be so warm…

Frodo slid a third finger inside him, whining. He bucked into his hand, head thrown back into his pillow.

_Aragorn…_

His hair was long, coming to his shoulders in a brown wave. Would the soft tresses touch his skin and how would it feel on Frodo’s skin? Would it feel like being touched by water, soft and caressing? Or like grass, light touches that left him itching?

_Aragorn…_

Frodo keens, adjusting his fingers so they’d push against his prostate if he could reach it. His cock throbbed. He mouthed Aragorn’s name, picking up his pace—

He shuddered, mouth agape in a silent scream as his cock pulsed. Semen smeared his chest and hand.

Frodo sighed, breathing heavily as he climbed down from his peak. His legs felt like Jell-O, as his arms like lead. His brain felt incapable of thought.

_Wow._

He moaned, knowing he needed to clean himself up, but lacked the energy to move without great force and willpower. He eventually made it to the bathroom and showered again, still hazy and _very_ tired.

He forced himself to dress for bed an brush his teeth before returning to his bed and happily collapsing on top of it, allowing sleep to claim him at last.


	6. Chapter 6

_Frodo_

“RISE AND SHINE!!!”

Frodo screamed, sitting up and holding his ear.

Kili leaned back in the chair, clapping his hands and laughing far too happily. Frodo glared at him, rubbing the now ringing ear.

“Bastard!”

 “What did he do?” Fili asked, stepping in.

 “Fucker yelled in my ear,” Frodo growled.

Fili slapped the back of Kili’s head. “Better?”

“No,” Frodo griped, getting out of bed. “I’m going to fucking kill you Kee.”

“Come at me, bro,” Kili dared, blocking Frodo’s punch and pulling him into a hug. “Aw, he’s not as cuddly as I remember…no fun.”

“KILI!!!”

Fili pulled Frodo out of Kili’s grasp. “Settle down, will you. If you want to rough house, go to Tauriel’s.”

“You know I would but then her dad and sister will be glaring at me the whole time.”

“Legolas identifies as male,” Frodo snapped. “He just so happens to like cross dressing when it suits him.” Kili shrugged.

“What the hell is going on in here?!” Thorin shouted. He was still in his own pajamas and his hair was unkempt. It, if anything, added to the dark anger etched on his face.

The trio silenced, staring at the floor. “Sorry, Uncle Thorin,” Fili and Kili murmured.

“Sorry, Pop,” Frodo added.

Thorin scowled and disappeared back to the master bedroom.

Fili sighed. “I’m fucking twenty-five. He should not have that effect on me anymore!”

“It’s Pop,” Frodo said. “He’ll _always_ have that effect even when he’s old and in a nursing home.” Kili snorted and nodded. “So what brings you guys here?”

“You, baby cousin,” Fili said. “What else?”

“We were gonna see a movie, have lunch at Dori’s, maybe pick up chicks and dudes—”

“Speak for yourself and Fro-Fro.”

Frodo glared at Kili, who winked at him. He _hated_ being called _Fro-Fro._ It was acceptable when he was a baby, but as soon as he could _say_ his own damn name, he insisted his family stop calling him _that_.

Kili was the only one who refused and did it solely to annoy him.

“Which movie?”

“ _Goblin Town 3_ ,” the brothers said.

Frodo grinned.

“Let me freshen up then,” he said, selecting fresh clothes before heading to the bathroom and showering quickly.

He returned dressed in black skinny jeans and a black polo shirt, dirty clothes going into the hamper before pulling on boots and grabbing his coat. He arched a brow at his expecting cousins.

“We ready?”

Fili stood, pulling Kili along.

“Why do you have to be so fashionable?” Kili whined, pouting at Frodo. “You’re putting _me_ to shame.”

“Your own damn fault,” Frodo snapped at him. Fili closed the door. “You’re the one who taught me _how_ to be stylish. It’s not my fault if it’s by default now. I literally dress _down_ for school so that Legolas doesn’t get it in his head to have a fashion battle with me.”

“Really?” Fili asked, smirking. Kili rolled his eyes.

“He did once!” Frodo said. “Last year for a week he tried to outdo me and it got a bit ridiculous.”

“I bet it did—oh yeah, I remember now,” Fili laughed. “God, that was funny!”

“No, it wasn’t,” Frodo snapped, leaning forward. “Legolas is scary when he wants to be. I like the guy, but _God_ must he be so dramatic?”

“I have to agree with Frodo,” Kili said. Frodo fell back in his seat and buckled up before Fili decided to get reckless. “Legolas is rather…”

“Dressy?”

“That’s putting it very nicely.”

“Let’s _not_ talk about the issues you have with Legolas,” Frodo suggested. “And focus on the torture porn we’re about to see.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Kili groaned. He turned around and smirked at Frodo. “Scared?”

“In your dreams, loser.”

#

“I did _not_ scream,” Fili snapped at Kili and Frodo, glaring at their backs.

“Well it could have been the lady behind us,” Frodo said, grinning at him. “But the likelihood of that is slim since we’ve heard you scream that high before.”

“ _I did not scream!_ ”

“You screamed,” Kili said. “I know you, Bro. You scream and you _screamed_.” He held his hands outstretched, daring Fili to do something about it.

Fili sighed, shaking his head. “I hate you both.” Kili and Frodo laughed, exchanging high-fives. “You know what? I’m not buying you jackasses lunch.” Kili glanced at Frodo, who shrugged. They looked at Fili.

“Fine,” Kili said. “I’ll pay for myself and Frodo if you’re gonna be like that.”

Fili groaned, catching up to them. Kili threw his arms around his brother and cousin.

“How about this, Fee, we’ll be nice and not tease you in front of Ori.”

“You _better_ not,” Fili growled. Frodo laughed at their banter, escaping the fight that may yet come forth between his cousins.

Dori’s café is a quaint, dully lighted, dark wood, green-colored rugged, plush cream-colored furniture coffee shop and bakery. Black and white still life and landscape photographs were lined on the walls. Frodo and Kili got in line. He glanced behind him at Fili, who had sidled up beside one of the baristas currently bussing tables.

“What— _Fili_ ,” Kili groaned. “Couldn’t have waited?”

“Leave him alone,” Frodo said, pushing Kili forward. “He hasn’t seen Ori in a while. Besides, Ori can handle himself.” As if to prove his point, Ori cuffed the back of Fili’s head and shooed him away.

“If you’re going to flirt with your boyfriend, I had every right to bring my girlfriend,” Kili snapped.

“And leave Frodo out as the fifth wheel?!” Fili asked, gasping in mock horror.

Frodo rolled his eyes. “I’m not a little kid anymore, you know.”

Fili and Kili snorted. They selected sandwiches from the bistro selection and ordered iced coffee before selecting a table beside a window.

Frodo wondered, if they had decided to bring their partners with them, would they have let Frodo invite one of his friends?

Or Aragorn?

Frodo chewed his sandwich contemplatively. He had nearly forgotten that…growth swelling in his chest. He wondered what he ought to do about it. Frodo had never dated before. Never really knew what it felt like to be in love.

His fathers and cousins made it look easy.

He knew from Sam, Merry, and Pippin that love was anything _but_ easy.

Love, Frodo guessed, was like cake. A lie. Well, his _presuppositions_ on love were like cake.

“You got quiet fast,” Kili said. “Something up?”

“The cake is a lie,” Frodo said, taking a sip of his iced mocha.

“Heathen!” Kili accused.

Fili slapped the back of his head. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Everything okay?”

Frodo glanced at them. Well, they’re advice (when serious) had never failed him yet. “There’s a new kid at school. A guy.”

“Hot?”

Frodo glared at Kili, who then shrugged.  “Yeah,” he sighed. “I guess he is. Legolas and Boromir brought him into the group. I’ve two classes with him and since my best class is his worst, and my worst is his best, we agreed to do homework together once in a while. He defended me from Lotho too, and then we flirted a bit and…I just…I don’t know if what I feel for him is genuine or just lust.”

“Lust,” Kili said.

“Definitely lust,” Fili said. “But you just met the guy, right?”

Frodo nodded.

“Then you’re fine. Lust gets a bad rep for a good reason, but without a little bit, you wouldn’t know if you’re attracted to anyone. A little bit is okay. Don’t overindulge in that feeling because too much means the little bit you feel now will dull to the point that you don’t even know it’s there. Do you like hanging out with him so far?”

“Yes.”

“Does he?”

“Maybe…we flirted a bit yesterday, but flirting comes easier for some than it does others.”

Kili nodded. “It does, but does he seem like the kind who flirts easily?”

Frodo shook his head.

“For now, just focus on those ‘study dates’ you and he agreed to have. Get to know him a little more and find out if he’s your type, if you get my meaning.” Frodo rolled his eyes, drinking his mocha. “If he is ask him out on a real date.”

“I don’t even know if I _like_ him.”

“Only way to figure that out is to get to know him,” Fili said. “Most you can do is talk to the guy. If he’s straight or isn’t interested in at least testing the waters to see if he is, at the very least, you’ll have another good friend.”

He hummed. “Okay. I guess I can do that.”

“Good,” Fili said. “Now eat your lunch that we _slaved_ to get you.”

Frodo rolled his eyes. “Sure. Handing Dori your _credit card_ is _such_ hard work.”

“And don’t you forget it.”


	7. Chapter 7

_Frodo_

Frodo glared at his hair, trying to tame it. An impossible task. _Maybe I should wear a hat._

“Frodo?” Bilbo called. “Are you ready yet?”

Frodo sighed, stepping out of the bathroom, buttoning his black dress shirt and selecting a silver tie to go with it. He placed a pinstripe fedora on his head, before grabbing his jacket and backpack.

“I’m ready.”

“For what? The theater?” Bilbo asked, arching a brow at Frodo’s attire.

His shirt was left untucked, the sleeves rolled up his forearms, and the tie hung loose around his neck. His dark blue skinny jeans clung to his hips. He donned his feet with black and green sneakers.

“I thought you and Legolas were at an impasse,” he exclaimed. “Is there going to be another war? Should I be worried?”

Frodo groaned. He really didn’t want to explain to Bilbo _why_ he decided to dress up today. It’d only bring him more grief to tell Bilbo he was trying to impress Aragorn. (Though a part of him knew Aragorn might not really care.)

“Can we please go?”

Bilbo sighed and nodded, “Come on.”

_Aragorn_

Aragorn tapped his pencil against the table, eyes shifting from _Of Mice and Men_ to Frodo.

Whether Frodo _meant_ to start another “war” as Legolas had called it or not, he could not decide. (Legolas, Aragorn decided, was probably less dramatic than he liked to make himself seem, but enjoyed a lot of attention. A trait that Gimli assured him ran in the blond’s family.)

It wasn’t that he didn’t _like_ the way Frodo had dressed—he did—but he had come to the conclusion that it was, without a doubt, Frodo’s eyes that he liked most. He liked staring into those clear blue eyes, bright with laughter. They were like pools of clear water, cool and refreshing…

Aragorn sighed heavily, returning to the book, biting his lip.

“Having fun?” Frodo asked.

Aragorn glanced up at him, throat catching. _God, those eyes…_

“Well, I’m a bit…no.”

“Want some help?”

“I think I got it,” Aragorn said, marking his place. “I’ll finish this at home, if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure. I don’t think I thanked you for deciding to stay this afternoon. Faculty meetings can go on for a rather long time…”

“I don’t mind. It’s not as though I have a curfew, or need to be anywhere,” he says, smiling. Frodo puts his own things away. “You don’t—”

“I can finish at home. Most of what’s do tomorrow is done already anyway, and it’s likely I won’t have to redo my math homework tonight, so I can spare a few minutes to talk if you like. Or we can go toe bleachers.”

Aragorn felt his heart skip. “Here’s fine,” he said, biting his lip. “What do you want to talk about?”

Frodo shrugged. “Any post-high school plans?”

“College?”

“Post-college plans then?”

Aragorn hummed. “Nothing comes to mind. I’ll probably major in business and work somewhere accordingly. Never really gave thought to it. You?”

Frodo shook his head. “Same boat. Maybe I’ll get a degree in library science rather than business though.”

“You want to be a librarian?”

“Books are awesome,” Frodo defended, pouting. “Libraries are quiet and I know I won’t be allowed to read while _there,_ but at least they have a calming atmosphere to them…”

“Life’s too loud for you?”

Frodo shrugged. “Sometimes I just want to escape, forget who I am. It’s ridiculous how much attention is put to my sexuality.”

Aragorn agreed. It was ridiculous.

Frodo tilted his head to the side. “You don’t _act_ like it bothers you, and I am grateful for that, and I’m also grateful for what you did last Thursday, but… _does_ my being gay or having gay parents actually bother you?”

Aragorn stared at him, trying to read Frodo.

His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, he had pulled his legs up to his chin, as though ready to defend himself if the need arises and his eyes spoke volumes about his uncertainty.

He stood, walking around the table to Frodo’s side, sliding into the booth beside him. He cupped Frodo’s cheek, thumb tracing his cheekbone. He noticed Frodo’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He leaned in, pressing his lips to Frodo’s for a brief moment.

His lips tingled from the kiss as he pulled back. “I’m not…bothered by it.”

“Are you also…”

“Yeah. I am.”

Aragorn held his breath, unsure what to do. He debated putting distance between them again, back away and let Frodo—

Frodo’s hand laced through his hair, tangling his locks as Frodo pulls him back. His kiss is less tentative than Aragorn’s had been. There is more force and more confidence.

Aragorn groans, gripping Frodo’s arms and pulling him closer. Frodo climbs into his lap, straddling him. His hands untangle from Aragorn’s hair, sliding to his shoulders.

Aragorn licks Frodo’s lips, which open for him and he delves his tongue inside greedily. His own hands move from Frodo’s arms to his waist and underneath the shirt, feeling warm flesh beneath his own hands.

Aragorn broke the kiss, latching to Frodo’s neck, kissing, nipping, sucking…his hands moved to Frodo’s ass, pulling another moan out of him.

He kneaded jean-clad flesh and pulled away from Frodo’s neck, capturing his lips again. Frodo whined, digging his nails into Aragorn’s shoulders. One hand slid down to rest over his erection. He nearly bit Frodo’s lip, startled, when that hand rubbed against his member.

“Can I?” Frodo asked, breath puffing against Aragorn’s lips. His eyes gazed at Aragorn, pupils blown and eyelids heavy. Aragorn bit back a moan, kissing Frodo again—

“What the _hell_?!”

They broke apart. Frodo banged his leg against the table’s edge while hastily climbing off. Aragorn sunk in his seat, hands clasped over his now flaccid shaft.

Frodo busied himself with gathering his things.

“What in the name of all that’s decent were you _doing_?!” Mr. Baggins shouted.

“Erm…” Frodo, if possible, turned redder. “Can we _not_ talk about this right now, Dad?” Aragorn slid out of his seat to where his own things were. He couldn’t look at them right now.

“Get your ass to the car,” Mr. Baggins growled. Aragorn winced, wishing Frodo all the luck.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Y-yeah…”

Before they pass out of his sight, Aragorn glances up. Frodo is being led by the scruff of his neck, so it’s not like he’d be able to look back at him. He limped a bit, but otherwise, walked normally.

_Fuck, what have I done?_

_Frodo_

He tried to sink into the seat, staring at his hands. If only the couch would swallow him. “I admit it was on his crotch,” he said. “But it was _not_ down his pants.”

“Irrelevant detail,” Thorin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Frodo, what were you thinking?”

“I…wasn’t?”

“Damn straight,” Bilbo snarled. “What if someone _else_ ran into you?!”

“Erm…”

“You’re _sixteen_ , Frodo!” Bilbo continued. “You _both_ are! Look, we get it: you’re hormones are going haywire, oxytocin is running high when you’re with this boy—but you’re still a minor!”

 _As if either of you were saints in high school,_ he thought, picking at dead skin on his fingers.

“We agreed you could date when you turned sixteen,” Thorin said. “We did _not_ say it would be okay for you to run around _sleeping_ with them.”

“You never said I _couldn’t_ either,” Frodo muttered. Silence. He glanced up to see if he was heard, and cowered when he realized he had been. “Sorry.”

“When you’re _eighteen_ , you can go ahead and have sex. Not before then. Okay?”

“Yeah, Pop.”

“Bilbo?”

“All right,” he said, slumping his shoulders. “But if that’s too difficult, you’ll have to wait until your eighteen to date.”

Frodo nodded. He’d worry about the fairness of that statement later when the embarrassment wore off. “Can I go now?”

“Yes,” Thorin said. Frodo jumped out of the chair and ran up the stairs.

“Why do you push all the awkward stuff onto me?” he heard Thorin whine.

“Because you’ve more experience with it. You don’t even blush anymore, Sweetie.”

Frodo closed his door and collapsed on his bed, screaming into his pillow and beating it with his fists before relaxing.

His Dad caught him making out with Aragorn…His Dad caught him just as he was about to, _maybe_ , get Aragorn off…

He groaned, wanting to cry and crawl into a hole. True. It could have been worse. It might have not been Bilbo, but…Frodo sighed, deciding to get ready for bed, trying to convince himself there had to be worse beginnings to a relationship.

He was certain there weren’t.

_Somebody kill me. Please…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor boys! *snorts in sadistic glee*


	8. Chapter 8

_Aragorn_

He opened his mouth to apologize for last night as the bell rang at the end of math class.

His voice caught in his throat again. He closed it.

It shouldn’t be this hard to apologize for a breach in conduct! True, Frodo hadn’t pushed him away and he seemed rather interested in exploring more…

 _And that is the end of that thought right there_ , Aragorn thought, tearing out a piece of paper to write a note instead.

_I am so sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble with your dad._

He passed it to Frodo, who glanced at him and read the note.

“Don’t be,” he said, looking up at him again and giving him a small smile. “Yeah it was the most awkward moment of my life and fucking embarrassing, but I’m sure you felt the same.”

Aragorn nodded. “It was. I’ve never… _ever_ did anything like that before.”

“Neither have I. Strict parents and all. Very strict. Annoyingly strict. I-can’t-wait-till-college strict!” His voice had lowered into a growl.

“Do I want to know?”

Frodo shook his head. “We’ll just be smarter about where we make out and when. No open spaces or anyone in sight.”

“Agreed,” Aragorn said. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“I don’t.”

“What’re you two talking about?” Legolas asked, walking out of the room with them.

Frodo almost hunched into himself. Aragorn glares at Legolas.

“What?”

“Not the time.”

“But—”

“Just drop it, Legolas,” Frodo muttered.

“Not when you two are being asses.”

“Frodo’s dad caught us making out and freaked,” Aragorn hissed. “Happy?”

Legolas frowned. “Just making out? That doesn’t make sense. It _is_ high school, after all. I can name eight couples in this _room_ that make out on campus.”

“Any who get caught with their hand almost in the other’s pants?” Frodo asked.

Legolas winced. “Ouch. Sorry. But that does clarify _why_ he freaked out than that you two were eating each other’s faces—”

A harsh guttural coughing paused them and they turned in the direction of the cough. The man’s hair was immensely thin, skin yellow and sunken into him. His clothes seemed to barely hang onto him.

Aragorn almost pulled Frodo back.

He touched the man’s arm. “Are you okay, Sir?” he asked. Aragorn and Legolas joined him. Aragorn wasn’t sure about Legolas, but he was ready to pull Frodo away from the man if it came to it.

“Baggins,” he said in a raspy voice. “We are looking for Baggins.”

Frodo tensed, leaning into Aragorn. “There isn’t anyone here named Baggins,” he lied.

The man growled at Frodo, as though he knew it was a lie, and Aragorn pulled him back.

“We don’t know anyone named Baggins,” Aragorn reiterated.

Legolas nodded. The man strode by them, coughing into his sleeve.

“Friend of yours, Frodo? Or your dad’s?”

“I hope not. He might know our family, but the Baggins family is huge. He might not be looking for my dad, but…” he straightened, fixing his bag. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Okay,” Legolas said.

“Be careful,” Aragorn added.

Frodo kissed his cheek and walked toward Mr. Baggin’s classroom.

Legolas nudged Aragorn’s side with the elbow. “You two are an adorable couple.”

“Shut up,” Aragorn snapped, shoving Legolas.

_Frodo_

He knocked on the door.

Bilbo glanced up from the computer, fingers hovering over the keyboard. He smiled and leaned on the desk“Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“There’s a guy roaming around the halls,” he said, “A homeless man looking for a ‘Baggins.’”

Watching Bilbo’s expression change from content to frightened sent a wave of anxiety through Frodo.

“Dad?”

“Did you talk to him?” he demanded.

“How else would I know who he was looking for—I didn’t tell him my name!” he said when ire started to show on Bilbo’s face. “Dad, why are you freaking out? You know him?”

“Get to class,” he said, picking up the phone.

“Who is he?”

“ _Frodo_ ,” Bilbo snapped, “ _Get_ to _class_.” He directed his attention to the phone. “Hello? It’s Bilbo, there’s a homeless man wandering the school. Yes, he’s inside,” he shot Frodo a glare and gestured at him to leave.

Frodo slumped his shoulders and headed to class.

 _Is it so much to ask for fucking answers_ , he wondered.

He barely made it to the classroom door when security passed by, dragging the man away as he screamed, thrashing against them.

“THIEF!!! BAGGINS!!!” he shouted, trying to break away from the guards to go after—

Bilbo. Eyes are on him, but no one dares to say a word as teachers usher them back inside. Frodo feels sorry for whatever class Bilbo has next. His students aren’t going to be doing anything but grilling him, he bets. It’s what his class would do.

Frodo entered the classroom, deciding to see if he could find answers himself after school.

#

He snuck downstairs to the garage finding a shelf full of boxes.

His parents never threw away photos. What wasn’t framed or in a book was tucked away in boxes, marked by the year they were taken and bundled together with rubber bands.

He found a box labeled _1991-1997_ and picked it up. He didn’t know if this was the box he wanted, but it was a good placed to start.

Frodo shuffled through the photos—

The hobo was in the photos, standing beside a much younger Bilbo, who looked slightly resigned in the photo, as though he didn’t want to have his picture taken. He turned the photo over.

_Belegost University, September 1991. Bilbo and Sméagol._

He shuffled through each photo, finding “Sméagol” more than once with Bilbo, sometimes with Bilbo and Thorin, other times with other men and women Frodo guessed were Bilbo’s dorm mates. By the 1993 photos, Sméagol looked thinner, his bones more pronounced, dark half-circles under his eyes, and his hair, once full and black, was falling out.

If he and Bilbo were the same age, or just about, Sméagol would have been twenty or twenty-one in ’93.

When he entered into the spring of that year, Sméagol had vanished from the pictures completely. Had he not seen Sméagol today at school, Frodo would have guessed that he had died between the last photo he was in and the next. It would have made sense.

But something _else_ had happened to take Sméagol out of Bilbo’s and Thorin’s lives.

The hum of the garage door alerted him to Thorin’s return. Frodo swore, stuffing the photo’s into the box and putting it back. It was too late to deny that he’d been in the garage, but he could say he was curious about something and decided to take a look.

It wasn’t a lie. Just an omission of _what_. He stood and grinned at Thorin.

“Hey Pop,” he said. “Good day?”

Thorin arched a brow. “Yes…why are you in the garage.”

“No reason,” Frodo said, grinning. “Just suddenly had an urge to know what you and Dad looked like in college and high school.”

“Nosy brat,” Thorin muttered affectionately, gently pushing Frodo back into the house.

“I’ll get my math homework,” Frodo said, rushing up the stairs past Bilbo.

In his room, he texted Fili and Kili, telling them he needed _a little help with something_ and that he’d _make it worth the effort_ before grabbing the sheet and heading downstairs, handing it to Thorin.

“Whatever happened to having dinner first?” Thorin asked.

“I just want to get it out of the way.”

Thorin exchanged a look with Bilbo, who rested the back of his hand on Frodo’s forehead.

#

“You won’t _believe_ what people are saying about Mr. Baggins,” Gimli muttered, sitting beside Boromir. Frodo snorted.

“I’ve been hearing it too, you know. My favorite is that he’s a criminal overlord.”

Gimli snorted. “With your Pop that could be believable.”

Frodo shrugged.

“I happen to like the idea of him actually being a former EAGLE agent,” Merry said, sitting on Frodo’s left. “He could do it.”

“No, he couldn’t,” Frodo said. “Sadly, Dad’s not that cool. Besides, it’s not anything so over the top as everyone keeps making it out to be.” He rolled his eyes at the disappointed groans and explained the photos that he found.

“If I hadn’t seen the guy before, I’d have just guessed he died, but likely…he got into drugs and shit instead and Bilbo outed him to the school. Probably for his own good.”

“Excellent deduction, Sherlock,” Legolas said. “But there’s one thing I’d like to ask.”

“Okay. What?”

“How does _any_ of that explain what he said when security escorted him off campus? He called your dad a thief, Bilbo. Did those photos explain what Mr. Baggins might have stolen from him?”

“No. I actually forgot about that.”


	9. Chapter 9

_Frodo_

“We did a little digging into your mystery hobo like you asked,” Fili said, lifting his coffee cup to his lips and taking a sip. He turned to at Ori, sitting beside him. “My love, what have you found?”

“There’s nothing on him,” Ori said. “As far as we know, no one named ‘Sméagol’ _ever_ attended Ered Luin. It might be a nickname.”

“Not comforting,” Frodo said, drumming his fingers on the table.

“No,” Ori agreed, “But I searched for news stories that might explain something. There’s a lot of stories that go on about students and drugs in general, but nothing specific. Whatever happened to him was not newsworthy, but it pissed him enough to go looking for your dad.”

Frodo hummed, laying his head on the table. “I’d be upset too if someone I thought was my friend reported me for drug use, even though they were being concerned. But there’s still the question of why he would call Dad a thief.”

Fili picked apart a muffin. “That may be something to ask Bilbo about,” he said. “I can’t get any information like that and neither can Ori or Kili.”

“I could ask him, but I’m a little scared what he’d do if I were to try.”

“He can’t ground you for being curious,” Fili reminded him. “Worst he can do is be a bit short with you.”

“That’s not very comforting.”

“The guy showed up at school,” Fili reminded him. “Bilbo is expecting you to ask questions soon. Whether he’ll tell you or not is up to him. Like I said: worst that will happen is he’ll tell you that it’s nunaya beeswax. Who knows,” he picked at Ori’s muffin. “He might tell you.”

“How’s your boyfriend?” Ori asked. Fili almost choked on the muffin. Frodo blushed.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he said. “We…at the point, we’re friends with benefits. But not dating nor have we made that agreement.”

“You might want to shift out of ‘friends with benefits’ stage. Never ends well. Either be friends or start dating,” Fili suggested. “I’d rather not the whole fiasco Kili was in start up again. Especially if it’s with you.”

“We aren’t even sleeping together,” Frodo muttered.

“Yet.”

“I wish ‘yet’ was an option. Dad and Pop threatened to make me wait till I’m eighteen if I don’t keep it in my pants.”

“What?!” Fili snapped. “I’m sorry, that just sucks…”

Ori rolled his eyes at Fili. “Have you not met my brother?” He turned to Frodo. “Most likely, they want to deny any fact that you are, in fact, a sexual being. Kind of like the way kids like to think their parents aren’t sexual beings. It’s a two way road: kids don’t want to think their parents are sexual and vice versa. All that happened when you were caught making out with your ‘friend’ was a collision called reality. And they couldn’t take it, so they set up a new rule that makes no sense to fit with their reality-denying world. Dori does it all the time. You’re parents may seem strict, but be glad you don’t have Dori as your relative. If it were up to him, you’d not be allowed to date till you’re twenty-one.”

“But,” Frodo said, confused. “The two of you have been together since high school off and on.”

Ori nodded, smirking. “My point exactly.”

Fili sighed, again tearing a chunk of muffin. “Always the quiet ones,” he mumbled before placing the chunk, blue and purple stain side down on his tongue.

Frodo checked his phone and stood. “I should get home.”

“Do you need to get home?”

“I’ve homework to do. And courage to build if I’m going to ask Dad about ‘Sméagol.’”

He didn’t _have_ to go home, but he did have homework to finish and, simply, there wasn’t really anything he wanted to do without Aragorn. He would have invited him to spend the evening with him while Bilbo and Thorin attended a charity auction. However, his parents didn’t tell him about it until that morning.

They were coming down the stairs when he was entering the door? Thorin checked his watch.

“It’s Saturday. What’re you doing home?”

“Homework and nothing better to do,” he said, slipping his shoes off and jogging up the stairs. “Fili says hi. Have fun at the…charity thing.”

“There are some leftovers in the refrigerator if you get hungry,” Bilbo said. “ _Don’t_ order pizza.”

Frodo turned at the top of the stairs and clapped his hand to his heart. “Dad, you wound me,” he said before entering his room. He closed his door and gathered in homework, organizing by class and by date due. With a sigh, he started on his English homework…

He didn’t look up much, vaguely aware of time passing and that his stomach was starting to cave in from the lack of food. When it was rather dark and the clock read seven, he decided to take a dinner break—

Frodo turned the light off and peered out the window. Sméagol was approaching the house. It didn’t look like he had seen him, but he _must_ have seen the light.

Frodo swore and ran down the stairs, checking that the door was locked. Same as the back door—a sliding glass pane. He drew the blinds over the glass before grabbing the landline phone and dialed Bilbo’s number.

His hands shook and he could see Sméagol’s silhouette outside. Frodo jumped when Sméagol turned the handle, screaming when he couldn’t get in.

“ _Hello_?”

“Dad,” Frodo said. “That…the guy—homeless guy from school…he’s outside.”

“ _Are you all right_?”

“I’m in the kitchen. Doors are locked and lights are out, but I think he saw my bedroom light.”

“ _Frodo, Pop and I coming home. Call the police after this. If you think you can get to Sam’s, do so. There’s a taser in Pop’s office in the bottom drawer on the left. Get it._ ”

“Then what? Sam’s?”

“ _Or hide. We’re getting in the car right now. You’ll be okay._ ”

Frodo didn’t think Bilbo could really make promises when he was several miles away from home. “Okay. I’m calling the police now.”

He hung up and took a shaky breath before peeking behind the wall. Sméagol had disappeared from the front. Frodo didn’t think he had left, so he took another breath and dashed to Thorin’s office, pulling the bottom drawer out and picking up the taser. He turned it on and dialed the police with his free hand.

He heard glass smash and he dove under the desk, pulling his legs to his chin.

“ _…what’s your emergency?_ ”

Frodo swallowed. “Someone broke into my house.”

“ _Lock yourself in a room and hide. A car is on its way. What’s your address?_ ”

“217554 Bagshot Row, Shire.”

“ _Stay on the phone, Son. Okay?_ ”

Frodo swallows. “O-okay.” He gasped at heavy footsteps pounding on the stairs. _Thump. Thump. Thump._ He dropped the phone, holding the taser with both hands. The door to the office opened.

“We knows you’re here, precious,” Sméagol gurgled. “Baggins…”

Frodo swallowed. His heart hammered in his ears and he clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. His head buzzed, making it hard to think and his eyes filled with unshed tears.

“Where are you?” He shuffles to the desk, eyes casting downward. In his hand was one of the kitchen knives from downstairs. Frodo shifted closer to the wall. It was still dark. He could hope he had not been seen, but he raised the taser.

Red and blue lights flashed from outside. Sméagol spied him and screamed, raising the knife. Frodo pulled the trigger, which landed on Sméagol’s abdomen, he vibrated from the shock and dropped the knife. He falls, to the ground, out cold. Frodo dropped the taser and crawled out, running out the room and down the stairs, opening the door.

Two officers stared at him. “He’s upstairs, third door on the left. I tazed him.”

“Tazed?”

“I had a taser.”

The woman took his shoulders, leading him outside, while the man went upstairs.

“Is there anyone we can call?”

He shook his head. “I already called my dads. They should be here soon.” She placed a blanket around his shoulders. The other officer returned, pulling Sméagol out of the house. He was awake and hissed at Frodo. Frodo jumped back.

“It’s okay,” the female officer assured him, rubbing his arms. “You’re okay.” Sméagol was forced into the car and grinned at Frodo.

“Where are your parents?”

“They were at a charity auction. They should be back soon.” Headlights lit the driveway and a car skidded to a halt.

“Frodo!” Bilbo shouted. He pulled Frodo into a hug. “Are you all right?” Frodo nodded.

“M’fine, Dad. Smothering. Can’t breathe.” Bilbo released him.

“Sir, can I ask you a few questions?” The other asked. Bilbo patted his shoulder and approached. Thorin clapped his shoulder.

“You okay?”

Frodo nodded, leaning into him. “I’m fine. A little shaky, but I guess that’s normal.”

“Very normal,” Thorin said.

“…College roommate,” Bilbo said. “He has a bad addiction that makes him very hostile. At first I tried to get him some help, but he wouldn’t listen. One day he attacked his cousin and took a family heirloom from him. I found out and took the ring to the police as evidence of the attack. He was arrested for assault and battery at the time, went to prison for about six months, I think and was expelled. He thinks I betrayed him and attacked me when he got out. I reported it, and he was arrested again. After that, I don’t know. I never saw him again until Tuesday earlier this week when he came on school grounds. I had no clue he found out where I lived. Look, he attacked my son and you said a kitchen knife was with him…”

“He’ll be tried, and given a psych evaluation. Would you say he’s mentally ill?”

“He’s a drug addict! Any mental illness he has is fucking self-inflicted!” Bilbo inhaled and exhaled. “I’m sorry. I’m just…”

“I understand, I have a daughter,” the officer replied.

“Want to give Sam a call?” Thorin asked, brining Frodo’s attention to him. Frodo nodded. “C’mon.” He led him back inside the house and to his room, leaning against the wall while Frodo texted Sam and packed a bag with some clothes. “We might have to find a new home after this.”

Frodo paused and looked at him. “Why?”

“Frodo he attacked you _in the house_. I’m not letting our family stay in a place that’s not safe. We can’t be certain that Sméagol will not come back when he’s out again. I’m sorry, Bud. Um, until we got a new place would you like to stay with Fili?” Frodo bit his lip. A new house? A new home that will probably _never_ feel like home?

_Do I even have a choice in this?_

“It was just once.”

“I know. But keeping you and your dad safe is way too important. If you didn’t have the taser…”

Frodo bowed his head. “Okay, Pop.” Thorin embraced him, rubbing his back and the tears Frodo held back finally spilled over.


	10. Chapter 10

_Aragorn_

Aragorn was nervous.

He’d every right to be.

He had never been introduced to the rest of Frodo’s family and yet, he stood beside the rest of the gang outside a grey apartment building in downtown, waiting for Frodo to let them in and, then, he would be face to face with one of Frodo’s cousins.

If not both.

The door opened and Frodo grinned at them.

“Hey guys.” He stepped aside and they filed inside. “ _Please_ tell me you brought me stuff?”

“We brought chips,” Pippin added helpfully, holding up a bag of Lays barbeque potato chips.

Frodo laughed. “That’ll do,” he said, wrapping his arm around Pippin’s shoulder.

“Is Fili home?” Legolas asked. Aragorn tensed.

“He is at work,” Frodo replied. Boromir nudged Aragorn when he relaxed. “He’ll be home in a couple hours but knows you guys are over. Sent him a text about It when Sam texted me at lunch.”

They stopped at the second floor and Frodo jammed a key into the hole in the doorknob.

“Welcome to my temporary abode.” They entered the small apartment and sat on the floor.

“Why are you staying with Fili and skipping school,” Boromir asked. “No slight intended. You’re dad didn’t show either. Death in the family?”

“None taken,” Frodo said. “Sam already knows and I _meant_ to get an e-mail out to you guys. Sorry about that. Things’ve been hectic since yesterday. And no, no one died. Thank God. Sam already knows what happened.”

The bag was opened and passed around.

“Legolas, Aragorn, remember that hobo that got onto campus last Tuesday?”

“Yeah,” Legolas said, stuffing two chips into his mouth.

“He found out where I live and attacked me at home while my parents were out.”

Aragorn’s head buzzed. The room was silent enough he could hear blood rushing through his ears. “Are you okay?”

“I’m physically fine, mentally and emotionally shaken up. Pop and Dad are planning to move. Until then, I’m staying here with Fili. Dad and I were given the week off. Trauma thing, you know. I think Bracegirdle’s glad we’re gone though ya know.”

“We aren’t!” Merry said. “The Fellowship’s not complete without you, Fro!”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Frodo warned, glaring.

Merry and Pippin sniggered behind their hands. Frodo narrowed his eyes at them and turned to the others, smoothing his glower into a grin.

“I don’t know where we’re moving to yet, but until then, Fili’s taking care of me…well, sort of. Pop gave me a card so I can buy my own groceries and essentials until we get a new place. Most Fili has to do, beginning _next_ Monday, is drive me to school before he goes to work. All in all, it’s not that bad.”

Aragorn stared at him, worrying his lip. Was Frodo really fine with it? He seemed to brush it off as though the ordeal was nothing.

They set up Netflix and watched _The Avengers_.

Hesitantly, Aragorn wrapped an arm around Frodo’s shoulders. Frodo tensed, glancing at him before relaxing. He was shivering slightly. Not enough to be noticed, but beneath his hand, Aragorn could feel the tremors.

Frodo laid his head on his shoulder, eyes closed. Aragorn pressed his lips to the top of his head.

“I won’t let anything hurt you again.” Frodo lifted his head, staring at him. Aragorn pressed his forehead against Frodo’s. “I mean it,” he continued, “I think I love you, Frodo.”

Frodo stared at him for a moment before leaning in and kissing him.

Gentle, soft, chaste…and broken before it could progress to something more carnal. Frodo beamed at him, laying back on his shoulder. The shivering had gone.

“Must you two be so fucking cute?” Legolas asked, glaring. They flipped him off.

#

The arrival of Frodo’s parents roughly around the same time his cousin returned was not expected—their arrival with pre-made lasagna welcome.

Mr. Baggins had only looked at them and sighed.

“I told you we’d need _two_ ,” he told the other man who could only be _the_ mysterious “Captain Oakenshield” everyone had warned Aragorn of.

He was taller than his husband, but still shorter than the rest, making him on the taller side of average. His hair was straight ebony flecked with silver, and his eyes a vibrant blue.

If Frodo’s parents weren’t both male, he could easily pass as their biological child.

One other thing Aragorn noted was that “the Capt’n” was _ripped_.

He guessed that if Frodo’s pop wanted to, he’d probably be able to rip Aragorn’s arm off. Or break his neck.

 _Crap_ probably didn’t cover it. Frodo curled his fingers between Aragorn’s.

“Relax, will you?” he whispered, leaning against him. “I know Pop seems…intimidating, but he’s actually not that bad once you get to know him a bit.”

“Frodo,” Mr. Baggins called. “Set the table, please.”

“Sure, Dad.” He pulled away from Aragorn and enters the small kitchen space.

“Who wants to watch _Resident Evil_?!” Boromir shouted, met with cheers. Aragorn turned to join them, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Aragorn, is it?” the Capt’n asked. Aragorn asked.

“Yes, Sir,” he replied, feeling rather small despite being about three inches taller.

_Oh crap oh crap oh crap!_

“I’d like to talk to you for a minute if that’s okay.”

Aragorn nodded.

“Or we can watch Aragorn get the shovel talk!” Legolas shouted.

Frodo gasped and turned around, arms laden with plates.

“ _Pop!!_ ”

Capt’n glared at Legolas, who grinned, and pulled Aragorn into the hallway.

“So,” Capt’n smirked and Aragorn gulped.

 _Not intimidating my ass!_ He thought.

“Aragorn, I don’t know if you’ve been in a relationship before, but this would be Frodo’s, so if you hurt my son…well, just remember I am trained to use a gun.”

“Yes, Sir. I don’t think I _could_ forget that you have a gun…and are trained to use it.”

He grabbed Aragorn’s coat, running his thumb over the pin.

“Your father’s?”

“Yes. He was a—”

“Master Sergeant,” Capt’n said. He squeezed Aragorn’s shoulder. “I am sorry for your loss.” Aragorn shrugged, head bowed. Capt’n opened the door and they reentered. “Frodo, you’re math—”

“ _Pop!_ ”

“Now. Before dinner.”

_Frodo_

**Str1dr _:_** _Wanna stay over tonight?_

Frodo drummed his fingers against the table and glanced at Fili. “Say I was invited to spend the night at a friend’s house…”

Fili snorted, flipping through the pages. “And I should give a fuck _why_?”

“Maybe because it’s Aragorn and my parents—”

“Won’t find out from me. And I still don’t give a fuck.”

Frodo grinned and turned to the screen.

**Myfathersapirate302:** _Sure. See you in a few?_

**Str1dr:** _heading to your cousin’s right now._

**_Str1dr has left this conversation_ **

Frodo logged out and stretched. School had gotten out…about a minute ago and it took half an hour to drive from school to Fili’s. The week had been boring through the day, but in the afternoon, his friends would come by with the day’s homework, which would be done together.

Though he could guess that he’d be exempted, Frodo _needed_ something to do with his time.

Homework gave him that aside from watching Netflix on Fili’s TV hooked up to his computer. Aragorn had visited nearly every day. When he couldn’t, Frodo would get texts afterschool let out.

Fili thought they were being sickeningly cute and excused himself to go barf in the toilet.

Frodo retaliated by calling him a dick.

He went to pack some things for the overnight stay before Aragorn arrived. His phone lit up as he zipped up his backpack.

 _It’s Aragorn,_ it read. _I’m outside._

Frodo swung his backpack over his shoulder and typed: _Coming down now. See you in a min._

“Bye Fili.”

“Have fun,” Fili called from the couch, flipping through papers Frodo didn’t care to know anything about.

He jogged down the stairs and out the door. Aragorn leaned on his car, arms crossed over his chest, and grinned at him when he showed. He stood and walked around to the driver’s seat. Frodo took his backpack of his shoulders and slid into the car, placing the bag on top of his feet. Aragorn leaned in and pecked his lips.

“Want to get some pizza before stopping at my place?” Aragorn asked.

“Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. Frodo’s username is “myfathersapirate302.” Why? I couldn’t think of anything else that’d fit him. This could change if someone’s got any better suggestions that have nothing to do with the Ring or Frodo’s canonical role in LotR.
> 
> I promise something will...actually/hopefully happen in the next chapter...including smut.


	11. Chapter 11

Aragorn held the door to his apartment open for Frodo, who looked around the room with his arms still full of the pizza boxes. It was sparsely decorated. A worn, brown futon served as a couch with the back to the windows, an equally warn coffee table in front of it with a small shelf and old television set hooked up to a stereo as well as two beanbag chairs.

Frodo was led into the kitchen, setting the pizza on the counter. Instead of a full sized refrigerator, a mini frig was hooked to the wall. Aragorn knelt before it, pulling out two glass bottles of Thomas Kemper’s root beer, handing one to Frodo.

“Do you keep anything in there?” Frodo asked, opening the bottle.

“Only milk, juice, and a few cans or bottles of soda…a few frozen dinners in the freezer.”

“Shit, man! What is this? A bachelor pad?”

Aragorn shrugged. “Sort of,” he admitted. “Most of this stuff came from home. Dad bought me this,” he kicked the frig, “at discount. The futon was from home, the coffee table used to belong to grandma…the TV was Dad’s but they got a new one and let me have _that_ one…My room’s down the hall—bed frame used to belong to one of my brothers—they both moved out, so I got one and my sister got the other, I think…sheets are also hand-me-down…”

Frodo shook his head. “I guess, considering, it’s not that bad.”

“Nope. Dishes are from the Dollar Tree, ten bucks apiece!” He opened a cabinet and handed a white dinner plate to Frodo.

“Do you hand wash or do you have a dishwasher?” he asked.

“Dishwasher. Run it once a week.”

“Still…”

“Well, it’s not like how it is for you right now: you’re living _with_ a cousin. I’m stuck here on my own.”

“How do you pay for the place?”

“My dad.”

“Wait, I thought your Dad…oh, right. So you call your foster dad ‘Dad?’”

“He’s been raising me since I was a toddler. It’s just _easier_ to call him ‘Dad’ and it doesn’t make it any less true. My birth-dad may have died, but Elrond _is_ in a way my dad even if we don’t share blood.”

Frodo hummed, nodding. He sat on the counter and opened the pizza box placing a slice on the plate and used his lap as a table.

“I understand completely,” he said, taking a bite.

Aragorn placed two slices on his own plate and leaned against the counter beside Frodo.

“When I was younger,” Frodo continued, “People used to question why I called two men my father. Some of them tried to take me away from them a long time ago when I was still a baby. My birth-parents got involved and told them all to back off cuz they believe they chose the best pair to do the job and it wasn’t anyone’s choice to who got to raise me but theirs.” He grinned. “I don’t regret being adopted. Never did, so I guess my birth-parents were right about choosing the best couple for the job. And it never bothered me that I don’t have a mom which still bothers people today.”

Aragorn chewed contemplatively. “I never had anything like that happen to me. I had a mom, after all. But that sort of logic is…Yeah. No. I don’t think I’d be able to stand it. I’m glad it got cleared up, though. It’s cool your birth-parents stepped up. Have you met them?”

Frodo shook his head. “I know a bit about them. Their married now, I know that, and live south of Hobbiton. So it’s not like I _can’t_ see them, but more that they don’t want to see me. I think it hurts them. My birth-dad was seventeen and my birth-mom fifteen. Dad told me that my birth-dad’s his little cousin or something like that and that neither of them were ready for kids. Also, he and Pop were trying to adopt, so when my birth-mom got pregnant, my birth-dad called and asked Dad if he’d be okay with adopting me.”

Frodo took a swig of root beer. “Most adoption stories aren’t like that at all.”

Aragorn nodded. “If not for Elrond taking me in after both my parents passed, I’d probably be in the system, so,” he raised his bottle. “Cheers to awesome adoptive parents.”

Frodo laughed, clinking his class to Aragorn’s. “I’ll drink to that.” They gulped down the rest of their drinks and Aragorn fetched two more for them. “Other than eating pizza and listening to sob stories,” Frodo said, “Was there any reason to inviting me over?”

“Nah. Just to hang out. We could watch a movie or do homework, if you _really_ wanted to.”

“Hell no!”

“Didn’t think so. Heck, there’s a movie theater a couple blocks away or we could troll people at the mall,” Aragorn stretched. “I don’t have anything planned. I just wanted to spend time with you _without_ having your cousins or parents cracking their knuckles at me.”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry about them!”

“You’re the youngest, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it makes sense they’d be a bit protective of you, though the Capt’n is a bit…yeah. He _is_ intimidating. He _intimidates_ me just by standing there and looking at me!”

Frodo laughed. “Okay, so Pop is intimidating when he _wants_ to be, but he usually doesn’t try to be.”

“How’d your parents meet anyway?”

“College.”

“I bet your dad thought your pop was rather intimidating.”

“Kinda hard to think someone’s intimidating when they come up to you stumbling over the words, ‘can I buy you a drink’ when at a bar near a college campus only to run away after without waiting for an answer from him, ‘so deep was his shame.’”

“Wait? What?”

“Dad thinks it was cute. Pop says he’s still mortified by it. I think I’ll stand on the ground that states that it was a moment I’d like to have seen.”

Aragorn took a swig. Frodo watched his throat, the column stretched, and contracted with each swallow. His thoughts turned to wondering how it’d feel to be swallowed down. He squirmed and blushed, looking down at his pizza and eating a little more.

 _This is perhaps one of the_ least _erotic situations of my life and he’s drinking fucking_ root beer _. How the hell does that have_ any _similarity to watching him swallow my cum?_

“You’re blushing.”

Frodo glared at him, taking another bite.

“What’s on your mind that you’d be blushing?”

“Not telling,” Frodo snapped, turning away from Aragorn because he knew his cheeks were burning. He crossed his legs.

He almost started when Aragorn’s hand touched his thigh, turning to face him again. Aragorn stared at him. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Why not? Was it about me?” he smirked. “Do I turn you on?”

Frodo shuddered, averting his eyes from Aragorn’s. “Yes,” he admitted.

“Good.” His plate was taken away to rest on the counter and Aragorn moved to stand in front of him. “Can I touch you?” Aragorn asked, voice shaking a bit.

Frodo nodded, uncrossing his legs and spreading them so Aragorn could stand between them. Aragorn set his hands on Frodo’s thigh, the heat of his hand seeping through the fabric into Frodo’s skin. Aragorn glanced up at him.

“Can I really?”

“Yes,” Frodo said, laying his hand on top of Aragorn’s. “Anywhere you want.” He blushed deeper at his own daring. Aragorn bit his lip, moving one his hands until it almost touched Frodo’s crotch. “Yes. Even there,” Frodo said. His head buzzed and his limbs felt light.

The palm of Aragorn’s hand pressed against his crotch and Frodo bit his lip to keep from gasping. Aragorn rubbed his hand against the growing tent and the other hand slid up under Frodo’s shirt, cold against the warmth of his skin. Frodo shivered, biting his lip again when two fingers pinched his nipple, the thumb circling around the rising flesh.

Frodo leaned down, kissing Aragorn. He tasted tart and spicy. “Can I touch you too?”

“Fuck, yes,” Aragorn whispered against his lips. “We should probably go to my room, if that’s okay.”

Frodo nodded, trying not to whine at the loss of Aragorn’s hands, following him down the hall into a bedroom that was _far_ more decorated than the majority of the apartment.

Aragorn sat on the bed pulling his shirt off. Frodo stepped between his legs and kissed him, running his fingers over Aragorn’s chest and shoulders. Aragorn’s fingers tugged Frodo’s jeans down his legs. His hands roamed Frodo’s back, and chest, slipping into the waistband of his boxers. Aragorn groaned, pulling Frodo closer and rolling them over so he lay on top.

Frodo pulled is shirt off and slid his legs free of his jeans. Aragorn’s jeans joined Frodo’s on the floor, locking their lips together again and pressed his weight against Frodo’s, hands still wandering. Aragorn slide their still covered erections together and Frodo gasped.

Aragorn took the time to insert his tongue in Frodo’s mouth. Aragorn curled his fingers under Frodo’s waistband and tugged them down his legs, getting off long enough to discard them and his own.

“Fuck, Frodo,” Aragorn whispered, kneeling in front of him. Frodo propped himself up on his arms, watching Aragorn. “Can I…” he blushed again and Frodo nodded.

Aragorn took him in his mouth, teeth grazing his flesh gently. Frodo shivered, unsure if for ecstasy or fear that Aragorn might bite down. He pulled his mouth off until only the head remained and he pressed his tongue against the slit. Frodo gasped, feeling a familiar pull.

“Aragorn, stop.”

He pulled away. “What?”

“Don’t wanna cum yet,” he said.

Aragorn smirked and lied on top of him again. He balanced himself on one hand, pressing their cocks together and gripping them. Frodo bit his lip, trying to keep still.

Aragorn slid his hand up and down. Frodo arched his back, clutching Aragorn’s shoulders. Aragorn’s hand picked up pace and Frodo whimpered. Aragorn panted above him, eyes closed.

“Together, right?” Aragorn asked.

“Yes,” Frodo agreed, digging his nails into Aragorn’s skin and bucking.

Aragorn crashed his lips to Frodo’s. Their teeth clashed together and their noses bumped, but Frodo cried into Aragorn’s mouth, both their movements jerked and spasmed.

Aragorn released their cocks collapsing ontop of Frodo’s hands grew lax he let one stray down to Aragorn’s ass. Aragorn laughed.

“Feeling me up?”

Frodo grinned at him. “Can I get up and take a shower or are you intent to see me covered in cum all night?”

“Only if I can join you.”

Frodo kissed him. “Okay.”

Aragorn stood and pulled him up, leading him back into the hall and to the bathroom, closing the door behind them.


	12. Chapter 12

_Aragorn_

“What are you looking up?” he asked, peering over Frodo’s shoulder. “ _How to have anal_ —do you want to?” Frodo didn’t meet his gaze, worrying his lip and face bright red. Aragorn kissed his cheek. “We don’t have to, Fro.”

“ _Don’t_ call me ‘Fro,’” Frodo protested, glaring at him. “And I _know_ we don’t, but I figured it’d not hurt knowing how.”

“Course not,” Aragorn agreed, grinning wider and circling the futon, placing the mugs of coffee on the table. He circled his arm around Frodo’s shoulders and kissed his neck just below his earlobe.

Frodo wearing his clothes—albeit a bit big on him—made him seem more endearing, if black basketball shorts and a white long-sleeve shirt could be “endearing.” His eyes scanned the page Frodo was on right now.

“Isn’t that advice for women?”

“Everyone has a butt and a hole, so I just ignore the stuff about the vagina,” Frodo said.

“Didn’t your parents…”

“Yes, they did, but that was about three or four years ago now and I think I’d give them a heart attack if I ask them for a refresher on what we covered in _the talk_. Besides: looking it up online may be a bit…risky, I guess, but certainly _not_ as awkward. Given how Dad reacted when he caught me with my hand almost down your pants…”

Aragorn shuddered. “You’re parents scare me.”

Frodo snorted. “What if I was a girl?”

“Then you’d probably not be here since I prefer guys,” Aragorn said, stretching. “So there’d be no worries for me. Whoever you _did_ date, however…Your Dad is a teacher, so even the tiniest gesture could lead to detention and abuse of power. And your Pop was rather vocal about his prowess with a gun when I met him. Plus I have it in my head that he’s a karate master of maybe three different practices.”

Frodo laughed loudly, voice echoing off the walls.

“At most ten,” Aragorn added seriously. Frodo wiped his eyes, still convulsing.

“He only knows Judo. And I know this because he likes to practice in the backyard. He actually shows off.”

“What about you?”

“I know the basics, but put me in a situation to _apply_ it, I freeze and I can’t think. Sadly, I’m stuck with pepper spray and taser guns.”

Aragorn frowned. “But Lotho…”

Frodo nodded. “I used it on him once in the parking lot last year. The principal threatened to expel me next time and I was suspended for a month, so…”

“That…why don’t your parents just move you to a different school.”

“They were going to, but they always taught me to stand up against people like Lotho and it’s not like I don’t have friends at school, so I don’t really want to transfer.”

“That… _can’t_ be okay. You shouldn’t have to deal with people like that.”

“It’s not,” Frodo said. “And honestly I don’t want to and neither does Dad but he teaches there and, while I don’t like it, he’s been teaching there for a long time.”

“Was he discriminated against by the principal too?”

“After his first year there, Principal Bracegirdle tried to have him fired, but most of the teachers and the students boycotted and no one came to school, so after a month or two into the new school year—I was about three, so I don’t really remember—he didn’t have much of a choice but to let Dad keep his job.”

Frodo pushed the computer and lap-desk to the side, leaning against Aragorn. “It gets tiring, I admit, and the only reason Lotho continues is because he knows I can’t do anything against him without risking getting expelled. Whether or not to transfer schools has always been a discussion at home.”

“But you keep telling them ‘no.’ Frodo…”

“Like I said, I’ve a good group of friends there. And if I transferred anywhere else there’s no guarantee that I still won’t be bullied because I prefer men to women. Besides, would I have met you if I agreed to transfer?”

“We’d not have met at all if I didn’t get expelled in the first place.”

“You know: awesome though your dad sounds, it still sucks that he expelled you.”

“For as long as I’ve been fighting for justice at Rivendell Prep, I think he was being rather tolerant with me,” Aragorn admitted. “There are too many Lotho Sackville-Bagginses around for me to be able to sit quietly and let things happen.”

Frodo sat up and straddled his lap. “I’m glad there are Aragorns then. The world needs more Aragorns.”

“Maybe, but this one is taken,” Aragorn said, pulling Frodo closer. “Do you mind if I go back to the topic of anal sex?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve never had sex that required penetration either, Frodo. So I’m not in any hurry to have anal. I _do_ , however, like oral, giving and receiving.”

“Until last night, my only experience with sex is with my hand and a couple toys, Aragorn.”

“I guessed so,” he said, shifting ever so slightly. The image of Frodo masturbating, backed with how he looked last night, was nothing short of arousing. “And that’s okay.” Frodo climbed off him and went to the windows, dropping the blinds and blocking the light from the room. “Frodo?”

“Oral, right?” he asked, returning to the couch and kneeling between Aragorn’s legs. “Any tips?”

Aragorn swallowed, mouth gone dry. “Erm…just…take your time and…how about I walk you through it?”

“All right,” Frodo said, unzipping Aragorn’s jeans and pulling his cock out

“Start with your hands.”

Frodo gripped the base of Aragorn’s cock, sliding his hand up the shaft and back down. He focused on breathing, watching Frodo intently as he slowly hardened. Frodo glanced up.“This good?”

“K-keep going,” Aragorn said. “If you like, you can kiss it or…whatever you like…” Frodo pressed his mouth to the head, gently puckering his lips against the head, the foreskin, and the slit. “When you’re ready,” Aragorn said, “You can take me in, but take your time with it. Tongue first if you’re not sure you’re ready to take me in.” Frodo opened his mouth, inserting just the head. “Try not to use your teeth.” Frodo looked up. “Just not yet,” he clarified. Frodo lowered his eyes. He pressed his tongue against the slit and sucked.

Aragorn hissed in, clawing his fingernails into the futon’s mattress. Frodo glanced up questioningly. “You’re doing all right,” Aragorn continued, his voice a tad deeper than he’d like it to be. “Other than sucking you can hum or try to fit more of…of me inside.” Frodo hummed and Aragorn resisted the urge to buck. “ _Fuck!_ ” Frodo laughed around him. Aragorn wanted to ask what was funny, but _the vibrations_. He stuffed his fist in his mouth to keep from screaming.

 _Either I’m a good teacher or he’s a skilled beginner_ , Aragorn thought.

Frodo released him. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to, well, you know. Thrust.”

“Oh.” _Shit._ “It’s usually avoided because I could choke you on accident. Is your jaw okay?”

“Yeah. Keep going?”

“If you like. I’m not stopping you.”

Frodo took him back in, sucking gently at the head. He rubbed the pad of his thumb against the underside of Aragorn’s cock. Aragorn let his head rest back against the couch and closed his eyes, focused on breathing. _Keep going. Keep going._

Frodo hummed again, circling the tip of his tongue around the slit experimentally. Aragorn looked down at Frodo. He threaded his fingers through those curls Frodo slid down his shaft, looking up at him. His eyes were wide and seemingly innocent.

Aragorn licked his lips. “If you want you can touch yourself, too.” Frodo slid back up, kissing the tip. Aragorn shivered. “You are unfair,” he snarled. Frodo grinned as he stood on his knees and shimmed the shorts down his hips to free his own cock.

“Blame yourself for being a good teacher,” he said, peppering kisses along Aragorn’s shaft again before taking him back in his mouth and began stroking himself.

 _Breathe_ , he said. _Remember to breathe…fuck…_

“I want to return the favor when you’re done,” he said. Frodo glanced up at him, pupils dilated. “Can I?” Frodo nods, removing his hand from his cock and placing it on Aragorn’s knee. “Use your teeth now, _gently_ graze them over…” He felt a light scraping as Frodo slid a little more of him inside. Aragorn whined, laying his head back on the couch and slouching. “Yes. Like that. _Yes_.” The hand on his knee moved to his groin, reaching for his sack. “ _Yes,_ ” he moaned, “ _Frodo…Frodo_.” The fingers rubbed against his scrotum and squeezed. Aragorn gasped, biting back a scream as his orgasm ripped through him. Frodo pulled away, coughing.

“Fuck! Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Frodo said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Didn’t expect it.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry!” Aragorn groaned, face warm. Frodo stood stepping out of the shorts and straddled Aragorn kissing is cheek. His cock pressed against Aragorn’s stomach, burning through his shirt.

“I think you promised to ‘return the favor,’” he whispered in his ear. “Will you let me cum in your mouth too? Do you like how it tastes? Are you going to swallow me down?”

Aragorn gripped Frodo’s hips and flipped them around so that Frodo now sat on the couch and Aragorn was between his knees. He kissed Frodo, pulling the shirt Frodo wore up and off to join the shorts. Frodo’s pale, creamy skin beckoned to him. He pressed his lips to Frodo’s jaw and nipped his neck. He kissed his shoulder, dragging his nails over Frodo’s torso, pleased at the goosebumps that he left in wake. He kissed a pink nipple, teasing it with his tongue and teeth. His hands found Frodo’s legs and he pushed them further apart. He moved to the other nipple, dragging his tongue over it.

Frodo whined, gripping Aragorn’s shoulders and digging his nails into the flesh. Aragorn moved down to his navel. He kissed around it, dipping his tongue inside Frodo’s navel. Frodo shifted his hips stilled from moving more by Aragorn’s hands.

“Try to keep still,” Aragorn said, reaching Frodo’s cock. He took it in his mouth, finding no need to bother with much more foreplay. Frodo’s cock wasn’t as big Aragorn’s and he didn’t mind it at all. It was easier to take in entirely. He took Frodo’s legs, pulling them over his knees and locking them in place with his hands to still them. Normally, he’d take his time. But he wanted to pleasure Frodo beyond his comprehension and have the beauty he had pinned down and naked, keening at his intense pace and the intensity that he sucked Frodo in at, grazing his teeth against his new lover’s skin and loving the way the body he had at his mercy shuddered.

He pushed Frodo’s legs off his shoulders, lowering one hand to his reawakening cock and stroking hard while the other hand played with Frodo’s balls, Frodo’s breathing was heavy, moans escaping his mouth. He could hear his name. Frodo screamed and Aragorn’s mouth filled with his cum. It was bitter and sour, but he swallowed it down and continued to play with Frodo’s sack, relishing the shudders escaping Frodo’s mouth.

Aragorn pulled off him, lips and tongue playing with the foreskin and kissed the tip, releasing with an obscene pop. Frodo’s eyes were closed and his lips bitten red. His cheeks were pink and his chest heaved. Aragorn set the laptop and lapdesk on the floor, lowering the futon. Frodo yelped and Aragorn undressed, letting his clothes mingle with the ones he lent Frodo. He slid on top of him, rubbing his awakened cock against Frodo’s now sensitive one, pulling out more moans and whimpers from Frodo’s throat before coming again over their chests before rolling off him. He glanced at Frodo, noting the tears clinging to his lover’s lashes. Aragorn shifted to the side and wiped Frodo’s eyes.

“You are fucking gorgeous,” he said, kissing Frodo. He cupped the back of his neck and pulled him closer. Frodo sucked in a breath when their groins touched again. “Absolutely gorgeous.” Frodo shuddered and turned so his back was to Aragorn’s. Aragorn’s smile fell, but then a hand reached over for his and Frodo pulled it over his waist, nestling closer. Aragorn grinned and kissed his shoulder, getting no response.

“Frodo?” Aragorn pushed himself up onto his elbow and glanced at Frodo’s face.

He was asleep, the corners of his mouth turned upward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'll be out of town next week for a mission trip. I give you two chapters of some sexy times and talk about past and present, likes and dislikes. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed them.
> 
> At the same time, I'm not quite satisfied with this chapter...it'll have to do for now, I guess...


	13. Chapter 13

_Frodo_

Stepping out of the shower and drying off, Frodo donned Aragorn’s clothes again and entered the living room to find his lover still asleep on the futon. He tugged the blankets over Aragorn’s shoulders and kissed his cheek. Aragorn mumbled and shifted but otherwise did not move.

Frodo straightened and entered the kitchen, searching for something he could use to make dinner with. There was a box of dry pasta noodles and two cans of Prego pasta sauce. He found the pots and put water to boil. It wouldn’t be much of a dinner, but unless he wanted to leave and get some…

_Hmm…_

Frodo grabbed his wallet and cell phone. He turned off the stove, moved the pot of water to a cold burner, and left Aragorn a note:

_Be back soon. Went to get groceries for dinner.—Frodo_

He grabbed his hoodie and left the apartment, skipping down the stairs. Exiting the building, he glanced around, searching for anything that looked remotely close to a grocery store.

The air was cool—not very cold, but cool enough that he was glad he brought his jacket. He zipped up his hoodie and stuffed his hands in his pockets, walking toward the main road.

His phone beeped and he checked the message.

 _Got your note,_ Aragorn wrote. _Do you know where the grocery store is? Head away from the main road._

Frodo turned around.

_And go to sixth street. There’s a Grocery Outlet there. I’ll try to meet you before you get back, but if not, call me and I’ll come let you back in._

Frodo sent a message expressing his thanks and that he’d see Aragorn soon and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. He glanced up at the grey sky, covering his eyes from the glare. The sky was darkening and he felt the first drop of rain hit his cheek.

 _Better hurry_ , he thought. He didn’t mind the rain, but he didn’t like being very wet and he wasn’t exactly dressed to battle against the weather at the moment. He picked up pace and found sixth street. The Grocery Outlet sign: red background, white and yellow colored fonts. He jogged across the street and let his shoulders drop when he stepped into the store.

He grabbed a basket and scanned the aisles, reading the signs above each. After stopping at the condiments aisle to grab a small bottle of ranch dressing, he strode down the produce aisle, selecting a bag of pre-washed salad mix filled with lettuce, cabbage, spinach and carrots. The last thing he needed to get was garlic bread. Or French bread. Either would work.

Frodo walked to the other side of the store where the bread items were. He did not find garlic bread. But he found a small loaf of French bread that he could fit on top of the salad mix. He put it in his basket, deciding to head over to the check out stand.

Two hands grabbed his arms and he gasped, almost dropping the basket, and turned around. Aragorn kissed him. Frodo hit him with his free hand.

“Don’t do that! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Sorry,” Aragorn said, smirking. He kissed Frodo’s cheek. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Since when do surprises include making people jump out of their skin?”

“Since that was the best way to do it,” he replied, taking the basket from him and wrapping his free arm around Frodo’s shoulders. “I’m buying.”

“What?! But—”

“I’m not going to argue with you on this.”

“I _selected_ them.”

“And I’m paying. Why make you pay on top of cook?” Aragorn countered as they stepped into a relatively short line.

Frodo slumped his shoulders and sighed. “Fine,” he said. Aragorn grinned and paid the cashier. They left, the bag in Frodo’s hand and his other holding Aragorn’s. “I didn’t think you’d join me so soon,” he said, pulling his hand away to put his hood on.

“I heard the door close behind you and woke up.” He leaned down to Frodo’s ear. “I’d have come after you then, but, well, I don’t think it’d be comfortable walking around with dry cum on me.”

Frodo blushed, staring at the ground. “Right…No. That’d not have been nice. Maybe you could wait until _after_ dinner to amp up your pheromones?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Aragorn said.

“I won’t feed you,” he threatened. Aragorn pouted. He looked sad and pathetic like a sad puppy and Frodo had to look away to keep from laughing. “Okay, I _might_ feed you, but I like my food made properly. I don’t know about you, but burnt bread and hard noodles doesn’t seem all that good.”

“No. It doesn’t, but did you _have_ to say you’d not feed me? That was cruel, Frodo.”

“You’re being silly.”

“No I’m not!”

Frodo laughed, pulling him down to kiss him before the cross walk turned green. “I will feed you. Don’t worry about that, but unless you want bad food, you’ll behave yourself. Okay? After dinner, though…” he smirked, pushing Aragorn away.

Aragorn blinked, watching him. He grinned and took Frodo’s hand in his. “I can wait.”

“Good,” Frodo said, squeezing his hand.

#

Aragorn’s arms held him secure and his breath tickled his neck. He had spooned around Frodo and while Frodo was awake, Aragorn was not.

If his bladder wasn’t giving him such trouble, Frodo wouldn’t mind it. Aragorn was warm and he was comfortable.

With a sigh, he untangled himself from Aragorn’s grip and strode to the bathroom. _Stupid nature_ , he thought, closing the door behind him.

As he washed his hands, he inspected the bruise on his shoulder where Aragorn had bit him the night before. Frodo shivered from the memory and his fingers trace the mark, a smile tugging on his lips.

 _I have to go back to Fili’s today_ , he remembered and his smile died. If only time could be stilled. He could stay here with Aragorn, have the world consist only of themselves.

But the world wasn’t just them. He had to go home. They had school and their friends.

And there was Lotho. Frodo sighed. One more week of freedom and then Lotho would be back. And now that he had Aragorn, would that make it easier or harder?

Frodo left the bathroom and returned to bed.

“You’re cold.”

“Went to the bathroom,” he said, kissing Aragorn.

“Want me to warm you up?”

“Not in the mood.” Frodo snuggled closer, head resting under Aragorn’s chin. “Maybe later when the whole reality of that it is Sunday now stops making me depressed.”

“We see each other every day.”

“But not like _this_ ,” Frodo said. “Here we can be who we are completely. It’s just us. Friends and lovers. But at school, we’re also students and I’m also a teacher’s son and an outcast.” He sighed. “I don’t want the weekend to end yet.”

“You’re not an outcast,” Aragorn said. “You’ve got _how_ many people on your side? Just because Lotho’s an ass doesn’t mean that you’re alone in this war you have with your cousin. Besides, I like being your knight in shining armor.”

“Shut up!” Frodo said, smiling.

“Prince Charming then?”

“What am I?! A fairy tale princess?!”

“No…maybe Robin Hood. He’s kind of like a knight and Prince Charming, but also really roguish. Yeah. I’m your dashing outlaw.”

“I am _not_ Maid Marian!” Frodo protested.

Aragorn pushed him onto his back. “Maybe not, and you’re no Damsel in Distress either, but you certainly needed help. You didn’t turn me away.”

“Because I’m just…very tired of Lotho’s antics,” he said. “And any help fighting against him is welcome.”

“So I noticed. But we don’t have to worry about him for a few more days, right?” Frodo nodded. “So let’s not think about him, okay? Nor do I want to think about when you have to leave. Like you said: here we are lovers first. I would like to—”

A phone buzzed and Aragorn swore, sitting up and grabbing his cell phone.

“Hello?” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, Dad. Everything’s fine, nothing to report….When? _Why_?!” He rolled his eyes and nodded. “All right. If I really have to…See you soon, then. Okay. Bye.” He hung up.

“What is it?” Frodo asked, turning onto his side. He propped up on his elbow.

“My family’s coming down and as much as I love you, they don’t…know.”

“Know what?” he asked, brow furrowed in his confusion. Aragorn picked at dead skin around his fingers. “They don’t know about me?”

“Not as whom we are to each other. They know you’re my friend. I did tell them about you and the gang. My sister was insistent in knowing I was making friends…but they don’t know we’re together.”

He stopped picking at his hands, ringing them together instead. “Why didn’t you tell them we’re together?” Aragorn ran his hand through his hair. “You never came out to them?”

“It’s not that they’ll judge me if I am cuz they _won’t_ , but yeah. I never told them that the reason I fought so much was because I was defending people like me.”

Frodo hummed, frowning. He stood on his knees and cupped Aragorn’s cheeks, pressing his forehead to his. “Tell them in your own time,” he said. “Are they coming soon?”

“They’re about two hours away.”

“That’s plenty of time to clean up. So let’s do that. Do you know if they’re bringing lunch?”

“Most likely.”

“Okay. We’ll just clean up and tell them I’m spent the night to help you with English and you’re helping me with Math.”

Aragorn blinked then nodded. Frodo pecked his lips and got out of bed, putting on his own and now clean clothes. Turning to look at Aragorn, he blushed underneath his hungry scrutiny. He beat down his blush and rolled his eyes.

“Go take a cold shower.”

“Why?!”

“ _Aragorn_ , your family’s coming over.”

He winced and got up. “That would kill _any_ hard on by itself. Cold water _not_ required,” he said, heading for the bathroom.

Frodo walked past the bathroom and pondered where to begin.

 _The kitchen_ , he decided. _Definitely the kitchen._


	14. Chapter 14

_Frodo_

He didn’t like the idea of lying to anyone. If they asked, yeah, he’ll admit to being gay. Would he be able to hide that he was in love with their son/brother and vice versa? Well, that’s the winning question, isn’t it? The now clean apartment felt cold from the open window, trying to air out the scent of Windex and any other cleaner Frodo used to rid the place of sex smells. If any.

He looked over Aragorn’s English assignment now while Aragorn examined the math, circling in pencil wherever a question was wrong or half-wrong. Frodo set the paper down, pencil gently clattering on the coffee table. “So…is it just your dad or…”

“Whole family. Elrohir, Elladan, and Arwen too,” he handed Frodo his math homework. “Be afraid. Be _very_ afraid.”

“If your brothers are anything like Fili and Kili, then I’m not worried,” Frodo said. “My cousins can be pretty nasty.”

Aragorn sighed, joining him on the couch and laid his head on Frodo’s lap. “I just wish I _could_ introduce you as my boyfriend.”

“You _can_ if you want. I won’t be mad if you don’t. I’ve never _had_ to have a sit down conversation about my sexuality with my parents beyond _the dreaded talk_. When I started to realize I liked boys, I didn’t really give it any other thought. My parents are both male, after all. To me, it was normal. I never grew up thinking it wasn’t normal even though many people told me it wasn’t. I just…never understood why they’d think that.”

“In a way you got lucky,” Aragorn said.

Frodo shrugged. “Maybe. For you, though, it might be more difficult. But don’t be surprised if you Dad already knows that you’re gay. Parents, I hate to say it, are _way_ too perceptive for their own good.

Aragorn sighed. “I suppose so…”

“I _know_ so.”

“Your dads are just strict.”

“I don’t think they’re _that_ strict. They used to be pretty loose. Dad used to put construction paper over the walls because I liked drawing on them.”

“What?!” Aragorn exclaimed, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Why didn’t my parents do that with me?! That’s actually kind of awesome!”

“You think so now, but I wanna find those so called posters and burn them,” Frodo growled. “Dad and Pop hid them somewhere and bring them out at family gatherings. I _wish_ they wouldn’t.”

“You grew out of it though.”

“Yeah. I did. After I drew on Sam’s parents’ walls.”

Aragorn laughed.

“Dad explained that not everyone appreciated my art. Pop said it might be time to switch to just paper or the sidewalks and got me some chalk.”

“Do you still draw?”

“Not really. Too busy playing League of Legends or Assassin’s Creed.”

“I bet your dad likes that.”

Frodo scoffed. He cupped Aragorn’s cheek. “Who cares? I like the games. Dad might complain, but as long as I do well in school, he won’t really do much else.”

Aragorn took Frodo’s hand in his, kissing his inner wrist breath tickling his palm. “Well, I can’t really complain either. I play RPGs too. Sometimes. When I’m not distracted by a gorgeous guy.” He smirked at Frodo, who blushed and tried to look away. Aragorn sat up and kissed his cheek. “I think you’re very pretty. And I think you’re very brave. And strong. And wonderful.”

“Stop making me blush, dammit,” Frodo growled at him. Aragorn grinned.

“But you’re so cute when you blush.”

Frodo seized a pillow, slamming it against Aragorn’s shoulder. He blocked with his arm and grabbed the other pillow, blocking another hit. He jumped off the couch and Frodo followed, laughing and screaming as the pillows slammed against each other. Frodo’s pillow flew from his grasp.

“Crap!” he shouted, diving for it.

“No! Nope, you lose,” Aragorn shot back, dropping his own pillow and grabbing Frodo’s biceps and pulling him to his chest. Aragorn kissed his neck just below his ear. Frodo shivered. “You’re mine, Baggins.”

“Now is probably the _least_ opportune time for that.”

“Still mine.”

Frodo glanced at him and smiled. “Fine. But you have to be _mine_.” Aragorn kissed him. “I take it you agree, Earendilion?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Frodo opened his mouth to answer, but a knock interrupted them. Aragorn released Frodo and they picked up the beaten pillows and placed them back on the futon. Aragorn went to the door and Frodo sat awkwardly on the futon, staring at the finished homework still laden on the coffee table.

“Hey Dad,” Aragorn said. “Oof!”

Frodo glanced over at Aragorn’s family. Two identical men, possibly college age, embraced a rather uncomfortable Aragorn.

“Choking! Dan, Ro, you’re choking me,” Aragorn said, struggling to break free.

“No you’re not.”

“You’d be unable to talk if you were.”

“Let your brother go,” a stern voice echoed. Frodo almost cringed, reminded of Pop when he was unamused. The twins released him and Aragorn gulped for air. His father stepped into the kitchen, setting down a glass casserole dish.

“Thanks Dad,” Aragorn said.

Aragorn’s father was tall. His hair was almost as dark as Pop’s, but his eyes were a darker shade of blue and he was much taller. His skin was paler as well. The three older of Mr. Earendilion’s four children resembled their father with their straight black hair, dark blue eyes and pale skin. They were also taller than Aragorn. Even his sister was tall. Aragorn’s eyes were also a lighter blue and his hair was a bit curly in comparison.

“Who’s that?” the twin on the left asked.

Aragorn swallowed. “My…we’re classmates…and…you know what, hell with it: he’s my boyfriend, Frodo Baggins.”

Frodo stared at him, a new blush creeping up his neck, ears, and face. “I’m giving you points for subtlety there, Aragorn,” he growled.

“At least it’s out!”

“Pay up, Ro,” a girl said. The twin Frodo guessed was Dan smirked back with the girl.

Frodo groaned, hiding his face in his hand. _Which meet the family occurrence is more awkward than this?_ he thought.

“You made bets about my sexuality?”

His siblings hummed. Arwen—if Frodo remembered correctly—patted Aragorn’s head. “We did. Don’t you remember when you told Dad you had a crush on my friend Haldir?”

“I did not!” he shouted.

“Its fine,” Arwen said, “I thought it was cute.”

“Then there was our babysitter when we were little: Glorfindel,” the right twin said. (Frodo quickly accepted he might _never_ be able to tell the two apart.)

“And that librarian who was nice to you, though he was a jerk to Ro and me,” Dan said. ( _So Dan’s on the left and Ro’s on the right_ , Frodo thought, _Okay._ )

“Erestor?” Arwen asked weakly.

“Yeah. Then there was our friend Lindir…”

“All right, all right,” Aragorn growled. “I get it. You already knew.”

“I didn’t,” Ro said. “I thought you at least liked _some_ girls.”

The other two sighed in a “long suffering” sort of way, patting his back. “Ro,” Arwen began. “Everyone he sent to the hospital was homophobic in one way or other.”

Frodo’s hands shook. He reached for his homework, deciding it might have been best to go home anyway.

Aragorn sat beside him, taking one of his hands in his. “I know it’s awkward right now,” he whispered, “But please stay. They really don’t bite. I promise. Besides, Dad will be less likely to bother me about school if you’re here.”

“You practically threw me to the dogs.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? My brothers will tease and Arwen will to, but they aren’t saying anything against you yet. That’s comforting, isn’t it?”

Frodo sighed. “I guess so. But this is just a bit _too_ awkward for me.”

“Trust me. There is nothing more awkward than dating your teacher’s kid. As much as I enjoyed this weekend, I sincerely doubt I’ll be able to look at your dad tomorrow without cringing.”

“I love you,” Frodo said. “You know I do, but…”

“Please?” Aragorn asked, pouting.

Frodo sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But you _owe_ me.”

“Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“Rain check.”

“D’aww, they’re cute,” one of the twins said. Aragorn threw a pillow at him.

Frodo rolled his eyes and froze when he noticed Mr. Earendilion staring at him. “You said your name was Baggins?” he asked. “Any relation to a Bilbo Baggins?”

“He’s my dad,” Frodo said. “Why?”

“No reason,” he said. Frodo turned away, biting his lip.

_What was that about?_


	15. Chapter 15

~Aragorn~

He regretted coming out so suddenly to his family.

In retrospect, it could have been worse. He could have ended up throwing himself and Frodo into a familial war which neither could really handle at the moment.

Aragorn really shouldn’t have been surprised that his older siblings made bets. They usually were doing something of that sort.

Frodo cringing on the couch was _not_ something he had hoped would happen when Aragorn introduced him to his family.

He made a note to ask Legolas how to possibly fix this. Not that he thought Legolas _would_ know, but at least the blond had some idea of what to do. At the worst, he would laugh at Aragorn’s expense.

As it was, Arwen and Ro were helping Dad make lunch (chicken casserole and Caesar salad) while Dan told embarrassing stories about Aragorn to Frodo, slowly changing who was cringing to Aragorn rather than Frodo with each smile that crept up Frodo’s face.

Aragorn didn’t laugh.

He wanted to punch his brother in the face, but that could only cause some…trouble for him and he didn’t fancy being grounded or lectured in front of Frodo.  “I was _four_ ,” Aragorn snapped at Dan.

“And it’s still cute,” Dan said.

“It actually is,” Frodo admitted, grinning at him.

He leaned against Aragorn, his ease almost completely returned. His closeness relaxed Aragorn, though he still glared at Dan. He wrapped an arm around Frodo’s shoulder and Frodo laid his head on Aragorn’s shoulder.

“How long have you been together?”

“Not long,” Frodo admitted.

“Course not, Aragorn just transferred,” Ro reminded Dan. “Couldn’t have met before then, right?”

“Right…still, their sickeningly cute.”

“Yep.”

Aragorn glared. “Shut it.”

“Why?” Arwen said. “It’s true.”

Dad remained silent.

Aragorn wasn’t worried about that: his father was usually rather quiet unless he something to say. A part of him worried that he was waiting for Frodo to go home before he began his rant on Aragorn’s “life choices” (as if it _was_ a choice!). 

“Frodo,” Dad said.

Frodo looked at him, his smile vanishing. “Yes, sir?”

 “Do your parents know you’re here?”

“Uh…well…” Frodo and Aragorn looked at each other. He swallowed. “I’m living with my cousin right now and he knows, but…no. They don’t.”

“We were just doing homework,” Aragorn lied smoothly, “And hanging out. Since when did that require supervision?” Dad narrowed his eyes at him. Aragorn swallowed. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, Dad. I was just saying we weren’t doing anything we shouldn’t.”

_As if I’d tell you._

Dad stared at them a little while longer.

He had this… _sense_ for when someone was lying but it wasn’t perfect.

Aragorn had mastered the art of lying over the years despite never daring to unless he absolutely had to. Considering what Frodo’s parents might do to him if they found out that Frodo had stayed over at his place, Aragorn deemed that the situation needed a little deceit.

Finally, Dad turned his back to them.

 _Saved_ , Aragorn thought, _for the meantime._

He took Frodo’s hands in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Dan left to use the restroom, allowing Aragorn to turn to Frodo and kissing his forehead.

“They won’t find out,” he promised. “Just follow my lead.”

Frodo nodded. “I’m still mad at you for this mess,” he whispered, pulling his phone out and starting a text. “What were you _thinking_ coming out like that?”

“I know. I screwed up, but I…okay, I wasn’t thinking at all.”

“Clearly.”

“I love you.”

“Wait a couple hours. That might work then. You’re lucky your brother’s funny.” He closed his phone and pocketed it again.

“He’s telling embarrassing stories,” Aragorn hissed.

Frodo smirked at him. “Exactly.”

~Frodo~

Fili arrived around two to pick Frodo up from Aragorn’s. Frodo kissed Aragorn’s cheek, whispered “good luck, see you at school tomorrow,” and followed Fili to his car.

“So…what happened?” Fili asked once some distance had been put between them and Aragorn’s apartment.

“The most awkward meet-the-family moment in all history,” Frodo said, sighing. “When you started dating Ori, would you have just blurted out your orientation to Pop?”

Fili barked a laugh and covered his mouth. “He didn’t…”

“He did.”

Fili cleared his throat and battled with a smile. “Sorry, Kiddo. But otherwise, you had fun, right?”

Frodo nodded and climbed into the passenger seat.

“He was probably nervous about it but didn’t want to lie to them about his relationship with you,” Fili said. “Sure, it lacked the grace, subtlety, and sobriety coming out to your family requires, but he didn’t mean to thrust you in such an awkward situation.”

He turned onto the main road.

“I see the way you look when he calls, and I’ve seen how he looks at you. He loves you, Frodo and you love him. I don’t think he meant to embarrass you like that. But yeah, they need to talk about it seriously and deciding to ask me to get you was smart. They can talk now, though, and _we_ ,” Fili smirked at Frodo in that way which made Frodo want to hide under the covers and demand a sick day (he tried once. It didn’t work). “Are going to Cold Stones!”

“Why?”

“Why not? Ice cream is therapy for the soul. Plus: you can have as much chocolate as you want.”

“You’re up to something,” Frodo accused.

“Mmm…maybe,” Fili said.

“I don’t trust you,” Frodo said, glaring at him.

“It’s just ice cream. Would you rather we go to Dori’s? Ori’s working right now and it’d be fun—”

“Ice cream,” Frodo said. “Definitely ice cream. But I’m getting the biggest cup available!”

“Fine,” Fili scoffed behind his grin. “Spoil my fun, why don’t you? Not my fault Ori has such a nice a—”

Frodo clapped his hands over his ears. “Lalalalalalala…”

“Mature, Frodo,” Fili mumbled, turning onto the highway entrance. “Very mature.”

#

Back at Fili’s, Frodo laid on the couch staring at his phone’s screen, rereading Aragorn’s text a little more often than he should.

_I really am sorry, Frodo. We talked about it and everything’s fine. Dad’s surprisingly okay with it and you saw how my siblings acted. Seems my family’s not as conservative as I thought they were._

He sighed and finally wrote back:  

_You were an idiot coming out to them that way! I’m still mad at you. What if my parents find out that I was at your place now?_

He sent the message.

Fili set a plate of grilled chicken on the coffee table before him.

“Make sure you eat that,” he said returning to the kitchen. “I don’t want Thorin and Bilbo finding out you didn’t eat and blame me for starving you.”

Frodo snorted. “I doubt they’ll get mad at you for not feeding me.”

“I’m pretty sure they will.”

His phone beeped and he checked the next message:

_I was a huge idiot. And what more do you want me to say in order to be forgiven? Should I invest in getting you a Rolex? Or maybe you’d be happier with a Labrador puppy? Dad doesn’t know you spent the weekend. As far as my family is concerned, you came by a couple hours before they did and we did homework together. That’s it. If your parents find out, that’s what they’ll hear. They won’t know that we slept together._

Frodo sighed.

_I’ll get rid of my text history then. Wouldn’t want them finding this message._

He sat up and set his phone beside the plate, cutting the chicken breast into smaller chunks. Aragorn’s reply came after he began to eat.

_They aren’t that strict are they? Cuz I’d be worried if they were._

Frodo scoffed and swallowed. He took another bite before typing:

_No. They aren’t, but I’d rather be safe than sorry, you know?_

He shook his head and ate the rest of his food, ignoring the sequence of beeps his phone gave off, indicating Aragorn’s messages. He checked them after putting the dishes in the sink.

_Yeah, I can understand that. Still worrying._

_And I am sorry you were uncomfortable around my family._

_And I love you._

Frodo smiled and leaned against the counter.

_I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Aragorn. Okay?_

He set his phone down and went to get ready for bed. He paused, glancing out the door. Fili’s hallway was dark, and the shadows were ominous to him, but Frodo sighed and finished brushing his teeth.

 _I’m fine,_ he thought. _That Sméagol guy is gone. He’s gone. I’m okay. He can’t get me…he can’t get me. he **can’t** get me._

Frodo spat in the sink and let the water run. He was fine. Truly. But at night, the memory of that night haunted him. He shook his head and grit his teeth.

**_I’m fine!!_ **

If only he could believe it in his heart…


	16. Chapter 16

_Aragorn_

Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir are leaning against the wall when Aragorn arrives at school.

For a moment, he thought this was some new fad they were trying to try and he inquired after it. Legolas pinched his cheeks and turned his head toward an elderly man in janitorial overalls, whistling the Andy Griffin theme song.

“Who is that?” he asked.

“New janitor. Name’s Mr. Grey but he’s insisted that everyone call him Gandalf,” Gimli said. “He’s a little…”

“Spooky,” Boromir asked.

“I was going to say weird. I’ve seen spooky. That’s not spooky.”

“Not sure I’d agree.”

“Why do we need a new janitor?”

“No idea.”

Frodo skidded to halt in front of them. “Lotho’s back,” he said, gasping. Aragorn pulled him into a hug and Frodo leaned against him.

Gimli cleared his throat. “And you’re out of breath because…”

“He’s waiting for me out in the courtyard,” he said. “I had to go around. I’m in no mood for his crap right now. I didn’t sleep well last night and if I could, I’d probably just break his arm and risk expulsion.” The bell rang overhead.

“Best get to your classes, boys,” the janitor called. Frodo furrowed his brow.

“Who’s that?”

“New janitor.”

“Named Gandalf.”

“Huh. Oh, be warned: pop quiz in my dad’s class.”

“Damn it!” Aragorn hissed.

#

Seeing Lotho in gym class gave Aragorn the opportunity to tell him what to expect if he attacked Frodo again. But under Mr. Fundin’s watch, it was harder than it should have been to corner him. In the end, Aragorn never got his chance. If he didn’t know better, Lotho was trying to avoid him. Not for no reason, and Aragorn could come up with a plan (albeit extremely awkward) where he follows his partner around…but something told him that might annoy Frodo more than help.

He nearly fell into his seat at math and Frodo was slumped over his.

“You okay?”

“Dad knows,” he sighed. “But as you said: he didn’t know about the _whole_ weekend. So I just got chewed out for asking Fili instead of him or Pop. In retrospect, I will take it as a sign that we got lucky.”

Aragorn nodded. “I’m still annoyed your dad had a pop quiz.”

“I’m sure you did fine.”

“Glad one of us is.”

The door opened and Bofur ran in. “Sorry I’m late! Car broke down on the way,” he said straightening his hat. “Now…”

Frodo slumped over his desk, staring lazily at the board. Aragorn leaned on his, head propped up by his hand as he pressed his elbow into the table.

It was going to be a long hour.

#

It was nearly lunch and Aragorn tapped his foot against the floor nervously.

What if Lotho got to Frodo? What if Aragorn didn’t get to him in time? What if—

 _Okay that’s enough!_ Aragorn thought, resting his head on the table.

“You could do more homework,” Gimli suggested.”

“Shut it,” Aragorn said. “I’m worried. “Frodo—”

“Will be fine. He’s handled Lotho before.”

“The first time we met, Lotho tried to break Frodo’s nose,” Aragorn hissed. Gimli hummed. “That doesn’t worry you?”

“It does, but there’s very little we can do about it when we’re on the other side of the school. But what could really happen in three minutes, Aragorn?”

“A lot,” Aragorn said. He stared at the clock.

“That’s not going to make time go any faster. Write Frodo a love note if that helps, but _stop_ it. You’re making me antsy.”

Any other time, Aragorn would have thought that to be a great idea.

Right now? With his lover’s tormentor running around?

He couldn’t be bothered to write properly let alone a love letter to Frodo. He stashed the idea away for some other time. Or would make a few to give Frodo later when exams came around…he liked that idea.

He slung his backpack on just seconds before the bell rang, rushing through the halls to get to Frodo and cursing the traffic that blocked his way. He heard a crash of sorts and traffic grew more congested. Aragorn shoved through the bodies.

Lotho had Frodo pinned against the wall, squeezing his throat. He rammed his free fist into Frodo’s abdomen before Aragorn could break through the crowd. Tackling Lotho to the ground and slamming his fist into his fat face.

“Aragorn! Aragorn, let him go!” Sam shouted, helping Frodo up. Frodo coughed, rubbing his neck and gasping for breath. “ _Aragorn_ , c’mon!”

“What in the world is going on here?!” Four hands seized Aragorn, pulling him off Lotho. Boromir and Legolas kept him firmly between them as the new janitor Gandalf stepped through, leaning on his mop. “A fight?”

“Aragorn attacked Lotho,” a girl said.

“Because Lotho attacked Frodo,” Legolas snarled at her. “I admit it got a little…over the top, but it was in defense, Sir.” Gandalf hummed, shifting his gaze from Lotho to Aragorn.

Lotho broke through the crowd, trying to put distance between him and Aragorn.

“Coward,” Aragorn hissed.

“Most bullies are,” Gandalf agreed. “But I wonder if there are better ways to handle the situation. Wouldn’t you think? How about you and Frodo go to see Oin. I’ll let his father know what happened.”

Slowly the crowd dispersed, letting Aragorn take Frodo from Sam. “Thanks, Sam.” He said.

“Not a problem. I’m going off campus with Rosie. We’ll get something light for Frodo in case his stomach starts acting up—”

Frodo shoved Aragorn off, leaning over the large garbage can and barfed.

“Like that.”

Aragorn patted his back. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

“No,” Frodo groaned. Aragorn waited for him to clear his stomach. “Toothpaste…need toothpaste.”

“When we see Oin, we’ll get you something to wash your mouth out with,” he promised. “You okay enough to walk?”

Frodo nodded and leaned against him. “Head’s swimming.” Aragorn kissed his forehead.

“I won’t let you fall,” he promised, squeezing his shoulder. They stumbled through the hall. Frodo’ arms guarded his middle, as though afraid that he’d be attacked again. There were bruises forming around his neck where Lotho had latched on.

When they arrived at Oin’s, the nurse was out, so he set Frodo on a bed and searched for mouthwash. He found none, so settled for water. Frodo thanked him, heading into the bathroom to rinse his mouth out as much as he could.

“Someone sick?”

Aragorn turned to Oin. “Lotho attacked Frodo again. Frodo’s in the bathroom washing his mouth out.”

“Has Bilbo been told?”

“The new janitor went to tell him, he should be here soon.”

“Good. Thank you for bringing him, Aragorn. Go get something to eat.”

“I’m not really hungry.”

Oin fixed him with a stare. He adjusted his hearing aid and cleared his throat. “Hungry or not, you’ll need the strength to get through the rest of the day. You won’t be much good to Frodo or anyone else if you run on fumes, lad. Go eat. His dad will be here soon to take care of things.”

“But—”

“Where’s Frodo?” Mr. Baggins demanded, entering the room.

“Bathroom,” Aragorn said.

Bilbo pushed past him, demanding to know what happened from Frodo. Aragorn swallowed and left, shaking. The fury and concern on Mr. Baggins’ face unnerved him too much for him to comfortably stay in the room. He couldn’t imagine what his teacher must feel seeing his own student victimized like this.

Aragorn loved Frodo, but that level of concern…he didn’t think he could handle seeing that on his own dad’s face. Returning to the cafeteria was hard and his food was difficult to swallow.

“So, the janitor’s weird,” Merry said. “Pip and I were thinking of staying behind after school to see if he’s got any oddities in the office now.”

“I don’t think you’ll find anything,” Boromir said.

“Won’t know unless we try,” Pippin said. He turned to Aragorn. “How’s Frodo?”

“Fine, I guess. Not vomiting anymore. Why?”

“Maybe he’ll be good enough to join.”

“I don’t think Mr. Baggins is likely to let him,” Aragorn admitted. “But if you’re insistent, then I’m in. I can fill him in tomorrow.

“Fine,” Pippin sighed. “We also need to find a way to get Lotho expelled.”

“We’ve been working on it for too long,” Legolas said. “If we haven’t found a way yet, we might not find one at all.”

“Don’t be so negative,” Boromir snapped. “We’ll figure it out.”

Aragorn pushed his peas around with a spoon. Getting Lotho expelled? That’d be too good to be true. “Let’s just spy on the new janitor for now, then we’ll worry about Lotho,” he suggested.

“Good enough for me,” Gimli said. “You going to eat that?”

Aragorn pushed the tray to him. “All yours.”


	17. Chapter 17

_Aragorn_

Frodo insisted on joining when Aragorn told him about their plan to spy on the new janitor.

“There’s a meeting after school, so Dad’s not going to be dragging me home right after. And Lotho’s already gone, thank _god_.”

“You don’t believe in God,” Pippin said.

“It’s just an expression,” Frodo said.

Behind Pippin’s back, he shook his head. Pippin wasn’t the brightest bulb, apparently. Terribly fun to be around, at least. 

After school let out, they frequented the senior lounge, sticking their tongues and making faces at Tauriel and her friends.

“I’m not driving you home if you’re going to be obnoxious, Las,” she said, glaring at Legolas. Legolas frowned and embraced Boromir.

“What are you doing?” Boromir asked, glaring at him.

“Be my ride?”

“Sure,” he said. “Now let go.”

“See, Tauri, I don’t _need_ a ride from you. I got Boro-Boro here.”

Boromir tried to push him away, blushing, while the rest of the gang laughed raucously. Tauriel rolled her eyes and walked off, muttering under her breath.

Once the school was as deserted as it could be, they left the lounge for the first floor. They tiptoed through the hall—a little hard to do with Gimli’s heavy footsteps—listening for the sound of whistling.

This time, it seemed Gandalf was whistling the theme for Darth Vader while mopping the floor.

“Merry,” Boromir whispered, you and Pip stay here—”

“Rather than hiding behind the corner,” Gandalf said, “How about you come into the light and _ask_ what you want to know.”

They exchanged looks before Legolas stepped out. “So we can ask whatever we want?”

“That depends on the question,” Gandalf said, halting in cleaning the floor and leaning on his mop. “And whether the answer you get is the one you want.”

The others stepped out. Pippin opened his mouth, but Merry elbowed him.

“Whatever it is you’re about to say, Pip, _don’t_.”

“Why?!”

Gandalf turned to him. “You’re a Took, aren’t you?”

“Yes. So’s Merry and Frodo…technically. Frodo’s adopted, so I wouldn’t know.”

“I am,” he said. “My birth-grandmother’s a Took and so is my adopted-grandmother.”

Gandalf hummed, smiling knowingly.

“I’ve known many Tooks. Pleasant family.”

The three cousins beamed.

“Quite adventurous…in fact, Mr. Baggins, I’m quite sure your parents wouldn’t have gotten together without my interference.”

Aragorn and Frodo exchanged looks and Frodo shrugged.

Boromir cleared his throat. “What happened to the other janitor?”

“He went on vacation,” Gandalf said.

“Where?” Gimli asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite know that. It was quite sudden.”

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” Pippin said.

“Nope. Could be permanent.”

They exchanged looks. He wasn’t bad for some old, weird guy, Aragorn decided. Gandalf cleared his throat.

“Come with me. I’ve something for you lads.” He turned and put his mop in the rolling mop bucket.

Aragorn hesitated at first, but then followed and the others went after him. Gandalf stopped in front of the janitor’s office and stepped in, rummaging through his files. He pulled out a few slips of paper and hands them out. Four tickets which he placed in Aragorn’s hand.

“For this weekend, Lads. Have a good afternoon.”

The door closed.

“There’s only four though,” Merry said, glaring. “What a cheapskate!”

Aragorn read the fine print on one of them and grinned. “Actually, they’re good for two people each,” he said. The others crowded around.

_Journey Light Show_

_South Farthing Laser Dome_

“What’s ‘Journey’?” Frodo asked.

“Could be the band,” Boromir mused, taking one of the tickets for closer inspection. “So looks like we have weekend plans…”

“We’ll see,” Gimli said. “My dad might make me sit through a family dinner.”

“On Saturday? These are for Saturday.”

“Never mind—”

“There you are!” They turned to see Mr. Baggins frowning at them. “Why are you down here?”

“Just getting to know the new janitor,” Frodo said, grinning. “Gave us tickets to a laser show on Saturday. Can I go, Dad? _Please_?”

“If there _is_ a light show, then you can. But until I know for sure, none of you are making plans.”

“Yes, Sir,” Frodo said, pouting. Bilbo led them back upstairs.  

“These don’t look fake,” Gimli whispered.

“I doubt they are,” Aragorn whispered back.

Frodo hummed. “I think Dad’s just being cautious.”

“Begs the question though,” Merry added. “Why would the janitor have tickets to a light show at the South Farthing Laser Dome?”

It was a good question, but at the same time, if Gandalf was malicious what motive did he have behind giving them authentic looking tickets?

_Frodo_

He hovered around Bilbo, staring at the computer screen over his shoulder.

“You could do something more useful, Frodo. I know you have a math test on Friday.”

Frodo stuck his tongue out to emphasize his distaste. “Aragorn, Legolas, and I were going to study together before then.”

“Good. Right now, you can study with Pop.”

Frodo pouted, heading downstairs to where Thorin was looking over contracts in the living room. Frodo grinned and returned to Bilbo.

“Pop’s doing paperwork.”

“And while that _is_ important, your education comes first,” Bilbo said, frowning at him. Frodo sighed, accepting defeat, and grabbed his text book and notebook.

“Pop,” he said with the air of one sentenced to the gallows. “I’ve a math test this week…”

#

Frodo slumped in his seat as soon as he made it to class.

Aragorn joined him, sitting in his own seat and slumping down so not to obstruct the vision of those behind him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m fine. And the light show thingy is real.”

“Thingy? What happened last night?”

“Went home; parents missed me a bit. And they made me study _math_.”

“Poor you,” Aragorn said with no trace of sympathy.

Frodo flipped him off when he was certain Bilbo wasn’t looking.

“You won’t get your grade back until a week or two later. And we can tell the others that the light show’s legit. Pippin and Merry are looking for a way to expel Lotho.”

“Again?” Frodo asked. He scoffed. “Good luck.”

“I’m drowning in your confidence,” Aragorn mumbled sarcastically.

Frodo looked at him, raising his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m tired and I’m sick of Lotho’s crap and I don’t know how to cope with it anymore. If I didn’t have so many good friends, I think I’d have let my parents transfer me somewhere else long ago, but…” he sighed. “I don’t know if that would do any good, you know?”

“Yeah,” Aragorn said, taking Frodo’s hand in his own. “I do.”

Frodo stared at their entwined fingers as Bilbo made his way to the front of the room, taking attendance.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to do much about Lotho—”

“You’ve done your best so far. I’m not expecting some hero, all right?” Frodo whispered. He smiled at Aragorn. “What you’ve done so far is more than I had hoped for.”

The bell rang and Frodo released Aragorn’s hand and turned to look at the board. Lotho, he decided, wasn’t going to ruin this week for him. Not if he could help it.


	18. Chapter 18

_Frodo_

The Green Dragon’s lunch rush was about to end by the time Frodo and Sam arrived. Sam pointed out the others and they approached the row of tables. Gimli and Legolas were arm wrestling and barely noticed their arrival.

“Hey Frodo,” Pippin greeted. Merry gave him a quick smile and wave before returning to cheering on Boromir.

“Wanna bet?” Legolas asked. “We got a pool going for who’ll win.”

“No thanks,” Frodo said. “Unless you’re set on having my parents kill me.”

Legolas mock gasped, clapping his hand over his heart. “Frodo, you wound me. I thought we had something special which no one could replace!”

“Oh it was replaced,” he said, embracing Aragorn. Aragorn gave him a hug in return. “I like my Aragorn more.” Legolas pouted and pretended to mock cry. “We’ve established that doesn’t work on me.”

“Aragorn, you’re boyfriend’s cruel.”

“I’m sorry? I’m not sorry. I don’t know how to feel about this.” Gimli slammed Boromir’s hand into the table and pumped his fists in victory.

“Pay up!” Legolas shouted as the others groaned, handing him several bills. “Lunch is on me,” he said. “Come on.” The followed him to the front of the line and placed their orders. Legolas transferred the money from his hand to the cashier and thanked her before they returned to their own seats.

“So did you tell your girls about the light show or am I the only one stupid enough to do that?” Merry asked.

“No, I did,” Pippin said.

“Same here,” Sam said. “ _But_ I then told her that I got her an appointment to the spa. I felt bad about going without her, so…”

“Two hundred boyfriend points to a Mr. Samwise Gamgee,” Legolas said.

“Must be nice working in a nursery,” Merry said. Pippin glared at him. 

“At least I know how to score with my girl,” Sam said, smirking at them. Merry flipped him off and Pippin rolled his eyes.

“Just be glad you _have_ girlfriends,” Gimli snapped. “Three of us here are single and would appreciate a little less whining from you three.”

“What about Frodo and Aragorn.”

“Not interested in the male sex,” Gimli snapped.

“I am,” Legolas said. “Both sexes have some quality…” Gimli elbowed him. “Ow.” The cashier shouted their number and Boromir and Aragorn went to retrieve the trays. “You didn’t have to hit me.”

“You were being a douche,” Gimli snapped. “Again. How is it we’re best friends?”

“Um…you just pretend to hate me even though we’re certain we were brothers in our past life?”

“That explains it,” Gimli said, rummaging for his hamburger once Aragorn and Boromir returned. Aragorn sat beside Frodo with their chicken strip baskets, stealing chips from each other. Merry pulled his tablet out, checking the news and relaying it to the others.

“Oh shit,” he said.

“What?” Pippin asked, looking over his shoulder. Merry handed the tablet to Frodo and he paled. _Deranged Felon Escapes County Jail._ “Frodo?”

“What is it?” Aragorn asked.

“That guy…Sméagol broke out.” He opened a new tab and e-mailed the article to his parents before handing it to Merry.

“Do you want to go home?”

He shook his head. “No. They’ll handle it. Dad and Pop always handles it.”

Aragorn frowned. “Frodo—”

“Never mess with army dads,” Legolas assures him. “The Cap’n will handle it and Mr. Baggins is pretty tough himself when he needs to be.”

Frodo agreed though he could tell that Aragorn was not fully convinced. Frodo leaned against him, stealing another chip.

“Will you stop taking my chips?”

“No,” Frodo said. He grinned. “You took mine. I’ll take yours.”

They were startled by Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir standing and clapping. They looked for the source, wondering if they missed something hilarious, but saw nothing but a pair of blonds. The boy glared at them while the girl blushed, hiding her face in her hands.

Frodo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Guys…”

“What?” Boromir said. “She’s hot!”

“They’re both hot,” Legolas said.

“You’re all idiots,” Frodo groaned. “I deny knowing you. For the moment.”

“Then why are you sitting here?”

“Because my man is.”

“Touché.”

_Aragorn_

Laying on the ground, side by side, watching electric lights create shapes above them in beat with the music wasn’t _as_ interesting as he thought it would be.

 

_Lying beside you_

_Here in the dark_

_Feeling your heart with mine…_

_Softly you whisper_

_You’re so sincere_

_How could our love be so blind?_

_We sailed on together_

_We drifted apart_

_And here you are by my side_

He reached over for Frodo’s hand, lacing his fingers between his. Frodo grasped back.

 

_So here I am with open arms_

_Hoping you’ll see_

_What your love means to me—_

_Open arms…_

Aragorn lifted their hands to his lip, pressing a kiss to Frodo’s knuckles, whispering, “I love you,” against the skin before setting their hands back down between them, clasped together.

The lights came on at the end of the song and they sat up. Aragorn kissed him. “Want to go to dinner? Just the two of us?” Frodo nodded, pressing his forehead to his. They stood and joined the others. Frodo turned his phone on while they left, wincing.

“I think I’m in trouble,” he said, breaking away from Aragorn.

“What’s that about?” Legolas asked.

“Not sure,” Aragorn said, “But I think it has to do with his parents and that guy that attacked him.” disappointment clawed at him. Would they have to postpone dinner? He approached Frodo slowly.

“…off because I was in the theater. I really am sorry for worrying you Dad. You too, Pop. Yes, I swear I’m fine. Hey, while we’re talking, is it okay if I go to dinner with Aragorn?” Frodo looked at Aragorn and stuck his tongue out, rolling his eyes. Aragorn smiled, holding in his laughter. He wrapped his arms around Frodo’s waist and kissed his cheek. “Really? What?! Why so early?! Okay, okay, fine. I’ll see you in a few hours. Yeah, that makes sense. Bye Dad. Bye Pop.” He hung up and groaned.

“What is it?”

“They said yes to dinner so long as I’m at Fili’s by nine and they want _Fili_ to call when I get home. I _could_ ask Fili to cover for me, but knowing Pop…”

“Won’t work?”

“No. They’ll have him put me on to make sure,” Frodo said, pocketing his phone. They walked back to the group.

“You don’t have to stay at my place.”

“I know, but you don’t have cousins or dads or what not at your place.”

“True, but I think I’d rather handle one of your cousins than your dad any time. Besides, I might not know Fili, but I like him despite that.”

“You’re saying that now. Just _wait_ till you really meet him. Showing up at your place during that awkward family dinner of yours…”

“I’m never living that down, am I?” he asked, wrapping an arm around Frodo’s shoulder. Frodo grinned and kissed his cheek.

“No.”

“I thought we agreed this would be a no cutesy outing!” Legolas snapped.

“We’re actually heading our own way,” Aragorn said.

“You’re abandoning us?” Legolas asked, embracing Boromir, who tried to push him off. Merry and Pippin joined the hug and Gimli rolled his eyes. Sam was on the phone with Rose, probably making plans to see her soon with the way he grinned.

“Not so much abandoning you guys so much as…going our own way for a while,” Frodo said. “It’s not goodbye, Legolas. It’s just for now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure.” Legolas broke away from the hug and embraced Frodo tightly. Frodo groaned. “Legolas you’re squishing me.”

“You’re too precious for this world.”

“ _Legolas_! Aragorn, a little help?”

“Do you wanna hug?”

“You’re on your own, Frodo.”

“ _Aragorn!_ If you don’t get me away from this lunatic, we’re breaking up.”

“Empty threats don’t work on me.”

“ _Aragorn!!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I made The Green Dragon a chain fast food joint in the Shire.
> 
> The song is “Open Arms” by Journey


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> -Verbal assault  
> -Physical assault
> 
> APPROACH WITH CAUTION
> 
> There will be a summary of events in the next chapter if you decide to skip this one

_Frodo_

“Do you have a lunch?” Frdoo asked, grinning at Aragorn.

He stopped tapping the pen against his desk and looked at Frodo. “I was going to buy something at the cafeteria,” he said.

“No you’re not,” Frodo said, grin widening. “It’s a nice day outside and hopefully the weather will hold till after lunch.”

“You made me food?”

“I did.”

“Should I be grateful or scared?” Aragorn teased. Frodo swatted his arm, making him chuckle. “I look forward to it.” He kissed the tip of Frodo’s nose ignoring the outburst of giggles. Frodo blushed.

“If Dad saw…”

“If I saw what?” Bilbo asked, glaring down at them.

Frodo’s blush deepened, changing from born of affection to embarrassment. The giggles and snickers intensified. “It was just a little kiss, Dad…”

“So I can’t cause you grief?”

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Indeed I am,” he said, smirking. The bell rang and Frodo slumped in his seat, relief flooding over him as Bilbo walked to the front of the classroom, handing out the reading quiz.

#

The sun shone through the maple tree’s leaves, casting broken shadows on the ground. Aragorn and Frodo leaned against the bark, enjoying turkey sandwiches and cantaloupe slices. It was an overall calm day and most students were enjoying lunch outside. “We should do this more often,” Aragorn said, laying his head on Frodo’s lap.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Frodo reminded him

“I won’t,” Aragorn said. “But _neither_ do I want to go back to class.”

“Ditto.” Frodo ran his fingers through Aragorn’s hair. “Too bad we have to.”

“We _could_ do this again without the limited time frame,” Aragorn suggested. “I’d not say no to another picnic somewhere quiet and enclosed.”

“There’s actually a little park that describes that near my parents: grass, trees, flowers, a wood bench, little pond…It’s nice. Most people mistake it for an overgrown area of the neighborhood.”

“And your parents don’t know about it?”

“Not sure. They might, but as far as I know, hardly anyone goes there because they don’t realize it’s actually a park. I went to the elementary school near it and never knew about it either.”

“Hmm…”

“You’re not falling asleep, are you?” Frodo asked.

“No, though I’ll admit it’s tempting to.” Aragorn sat up, stretching. He wrapped an arm around Frodo’s shoulders and kissed his cheek. “I love you, you know.”

Frodo turned his head and pressed his lips to Aragorn’s. “I love you, too,” he whispered, grinning.

“Gross!” They broke apart. Lotho and his gang glared at them as though they were slugs. Frodo’s stomach flipped, making him want to vomit again.

“You two are together? That’s just _wrong!_ ”

“ _How_ is it wrong?!” Legolas shouted as he and Sam came to their defense. “What’s _wrong_ is your bigotry and supremacy.”

“No one gives a shit,” Sam added. “That you _do_ only proves your idiocy!”

“Seriously? Is _everyone_ in the school _blind_?” Lotho shouted. “Two guys together is disgusting! It’s unnatural!”

Frodo shook beside Aragorn, his head buzzed. From repressed anger or something else, he didn’t know. His eyes stung, his nose burned, his throat constricted. Aragorn was tense. His hand shook, balled into fists and a small trail of blood spilled from his palm. Legolas slammed his fist into Lotho’s jaw. Lotho grabbed Legolas’ jacket and threw a meaty hand at him. Legolas barely dodged the attack, ramming a fist into Lotho’s stomach. Lotho jumped back, clutching his middle and Legolas grabbed his hair, ramming his knee into Lotho’s face.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!!”

They’re pulled off each other. Bilbo held Legolas back and Mr. Fundinson had Lotho by the scruff of his neck. They were dragged inside, most likely going to see the principal. Still, neither Frodo nor Aragorn relaxed. Sam approached them. “You two okay?”

“No,” Aragorn said, uncurling his hands.

“You’re bleeding,” Sam said. “Come on, let’s go to Oin. You two should take the rest of the day off. I think Mr. Baggins won’t mind if he heard any of it.”

“I don’t think he did,” Frodo said. His voice quivered. “But I think we’ll leave anyway. At least, I will be leaving…I can’t…I just…” Aragorn embraced him and the tears spilled out. Frodo hid his face in Aragorn’s chest. He just wanted a nice lunch with Aragorn. Was the only time he could have peace when Lotho was nowhere near him? Aragorn’s nails scratched his back.

“I could drive you guys to the movies or something,” Sam said. “Or home or wherever…”

“No,” Aragorn said. His voice also shook. “Thanks Sam, but I think we got it. I don’t want you getting in trouble for skipping classes with us.”

“You sure you’re okay to drive?”

“We’ll walk,” Aragorn said. “And we’ll come back for my car after school.”

Sam didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “All right, I’ll let your teachers and Mr. Baggins know what’s going on.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Frodo said, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hands.

They entered the school and went to their lockers with a promise to meet outside in the front courtyard. Frodo found Aragorn leaning against the wall outside, his eyes glued to the ground and face twisted in a grimace.

“Hey,” he said. Aragorn looked up. “Ready?” Of course he was. He had his backpack and everything. Aragorn grabbed his hand.

“Is there any place you want to go?”

“Anywhere,” Frodo said. “Anywhere but here. I don’t care where so long as we’re not attacked again.” His eyes and nose started to sting again.

Aragorn cupped his face in his hands, pressing his forehead to Frodo’s. “Hey, don’t cry, Sweetheart. Look at me. I love you and there is _nothing_ anyone can say or do to us that will change that. Okay? So please don’t cry. I’m here and I’ll protect you. Don’t listen to them. They’re all idiots.”

Frodo nodded. Aragorn kissed him, wiping his tears away with his thumbs. “Want to go to the movies? See what’s there?” Frodo nodded. Aragorn kissed his forehead and took his hand in his, the band-aids scratched against Frodo’s palm and he knew the adhesive was bound to come off sooner or later. But he held Aragorn’s hand tighter and let himself be led.

#

Frodo decided he’d _never_ understand how a movie could calm him down. For now, he’d be grateful for it. He tossed the paper coffee cup in the trash and laced took Aragorn’s free hand in his, grateful for the silent support. They didn’t need to talk and just being able to hold hands right now was perfect. As were the kisses Aragorn pressed to his hand and cheek, sometimes his lips.

They entered the school grounds and approached the car, tossing their bags into the back seat—

Two hands grabbed Frodo. A fist collided with his stomach and a foot slammed into the back of his knees. Frodo covered his head with his hands and his legs tucked around his torso as the kicks and punches slammed into him

“Get off him! _Get off_!” Aragorn screamed.

His spine tingled and is hands ached.

“ _Frodo_!!”

_Dad! Pop! Somebody!_

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!!”

The beating ended. Feet pounded against the asphalt, fading into the distance.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Mr. Baggins, I—”

“It’s not your fault, Aragorn.” Two hands pried Frodo’s off his head. “Frodo, Honey, it’s all right. Can you move?” Frodo shook. His body ached and he clutched to Bilbo. He felt Bilbo shifting around and saw a rectangle in his hand— _phone­_ , he corrected himself. Bilbo pressed it to his ear. “Thorin, damn it, answer your phone! Frodo was beaten! We’re going to the hospital.” Bilbo returned the phone to his pocket and lifted Frodo in his arms. “Aragorn, get your bags.” They walked to Bilbo’s car. Aragorn opened the door for Bilbo and Frodo was placed in the back seat. Aragorn circled around and climbed into the car with him. He gingerly embraced Frodo.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t think they’d…I’m sorry. We never should’ve come back for the car.”

The car roared to life and they left the school grounds. Frodo’s breathing evened out.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“What happened?” Frodo asked. “I mean…I know we were jumped, but…”

“Lotho just bought his expulsion,” Bilbo snarled, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Frodo could see his knuckles were white. “If Bracegirdle thinks he can let Lotho slide this time…”

The phone rang and he swore, handing it to Aragorn. “Answer that for me; it’s on speaker.”

Aragorn did so.

“ _Bilbo? What’s going on?_ ” Bilbo explained what he saw and where they were headed. “ _Frodo?_ ”

“I’m…well, I’m alive,” he said. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Thorin didn’t answer right away. “ _I’ll meet you at the hospital. Drive safe—I mean it, Bilbo._ ” Bilbo scoffed but promised to be careful. Thorin hung up and Aragorn handed the phone back to Bilbo. Frodo uncurled himself slowly, leaning against Aragorn, who kept whispering apologies.

“It’s not your fault,” Frodo said. “We didn’t know he’d still be there. We couldn’t have known. I’m not mad at you, Aragorn.”

Bilbo entered the hospital parking lot. He took Frodo from Aragorn’s arms. “Come on,” Bilbo said. “You too, Aragorn.”

They entered the emergency room and Frodo was set in a chair. He hissed in when he sat down, curling into himself and shied away from Aragorn’s touch. It wasn’t any slight toward Aragorn. His back hurt far more than he thought it would and he told Aragorn that while Bilbo checked him in. Aragorn’s hands stayed on his lap instead, shaking.

Bilbo returned, eyes red-rimmed. “Frodo, they’ll get you in as soon as they can. They’re going to take x-rays and check for internal bleeding and spinal damage. They’re hopeful it won’t be too bad since you can still walk. Okay?” Frodo nodded. Bilbo smiled weakly and turned to Aragorn. “I let them know you were allowed inside with him. I know you’ll want to keep close and I appreciate that. Aragorn, do you want me to call your dad? Let him know what happened?”

Aragorn nodded. “He’ll find out eventually. Might as well.” Bilbo stood and pulled his phone out again. The door into the emergency room opened and Frodo was called. Aragorn followed after him like a duckling would its mother. He waited outside the room while Frodo dressed into a gown. He spied himself in the mirror. His torso was fine but his arms and back were forming bruises.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. _Please let this all be a bad dream._


	20. Chapter 20

_Last Time_

_Aragorn and Frodo enjoy lunch outside. After they eat, Lotho and his gang catch them kissing and they verbally attack them. Legolas and Sam come to their defense. A fight starts between Legolas and Lotho. They are taken to the principal’s office and Sam offers Frodo and Aragorn a ride anywhere off campus. They refuse, deciding to come back for Aragorn’s car later. They go to the movies to calm down. When they return for the car, Lotho and his gang jumps them. Frodo is beaten, but before it gets worse, Bilbo finds them and intervenes. He takes Frodo and Aragorn to the hospital._

_Aragorn_

There were no broken bones, but a couple ribs had been fractured and Frodo’s tailbone was the worst. He would be find in a few weeks and would be able to go to school after his tailbone healed. He had no significant head injuries, but he was told to stay awake for the next few hours just in case. There were no signs of internal bleeding.

Aragorn was a bit scratched up, but his own injuries were nothing compared to Frodo’s a first aid kit was all he really needed. He sat beside Frodo, holding his hand while Frodo flipped through different channels, scoffing at the cartoons.

He was doing all he could to keep cheerful despite the situation. Probably because if he didn’t, he’d start crying again.

Aragorn didn’t like seeing him cry. He preferred Frodo’s beautiful smiles and bright laughter.

If he ever saw Lotho again, there would be blood.

A hand touched his shoulder and he looked up at Thorin. “Sir?”

“Your dad’s here to take you home.”

“I—”

“You can visit whenever you like, but you should go home and rest,” Thorin said.

Aragorn bowed his head and stood. Thorin walked beside him. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t protect him.”

“What happened wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you for what happened to my son. You’re a good kid, Aragorn. But it’s not healthy carrying blame for every assault Frodo will go through. Instead, you’ll be a lot more useful just _being_ by his side when Bilbo and I can’t.”

“You’re transferring him to another school, aren’t you?”

“It’s always been on the table,” Thorin admitted. “But there really isn’t any school I know of that will provide a safe environment for Frodo. He’s always argued that he doesn’t want to transfer because of his friends and that is a solid argument. What he’s been through is not a road anyone should travel alone. I might not like _all_ of his friends or their parents but I am glad he has them.”

“Legolas?”

“He’s a midge more tolerable than his father,” Thorin said, shrugging. “But we’ll see how the next few days go. There really isn’t any excuse for Lotho to be allowed in Hobbiton anymore and not even his own grandfather will be able to save his sorry ass this time.”

Elrond was pacing the waiting room when they arrived. He thanked Thorin and led Aragorn out. “Are you all right?” he asked. “You’re not hurt?”

“Not as bad as Frodo,” Aragorn said.

He wasn’t expecting the one-armed hug and the kiss pressed to the top of his head. He wondered if the guilt he felt would ever pass, and closed his eyes to dam his tears.

#

Mr. Baggins’ class was cancelled.

He didn’t see Lotho at P.E. nor anywhere else in the school.

Aragorn wasn’t sure what would have happened if he saw him at all. A part of him knew he’d beat Lotho’s face in. But otherwise, he was numb through the day.

“What happened yesterday?” Boromir asked. He and the others approached Aragorn cautiously. “Where’s Frodo?”

“He’s in the hospital,” Aragorn said.

“What?” Merry said, sitting across from him. “What happened?”

Aragon swallowed, trying to unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth, and told them about the attack, his hands shaking. He let the others rage.

They silenced when a bell had been rung and a voice echoed from the stereos nailed into the walls:

 _Teachers please escort the students to the main auditorium._ The message repeated.

Aragorn and the others abandoned the table and filed out the cafeteria, segregated by their different class. The auditorium filled with echoes and murmurs and whispers.

Was there supposed to be an assembly today?

What is it about?

Is this a prank?

The auditorium silenced with Mr. Grey walked onto stage in a grey suit and hat. The stern look on his face sent chills down Aragorn’s spine.

Gandalf Grey was the District Superintendant.

His real name was Olorin White and he came down to investigate a bullying problem and regretted to find the rumors true.

Certain students, left unnamed, had been expelled, active immediately, due to an attack _yesterday_ —Aragorn’s mouth had dropped at that—on another student unsolicited. And Principal Bracegirdle was also “encouraged to resign.”

Until a new principal was appointed, Superintendant White would act as principal of Hobbiton High.

Legolas, Merry, and Gimli wore shit-eating grins, Pippin and Sam were laughing and Boromir was clapping along with several other students. Aragorn couldn’t move. He didn’t know how to react.

Lotho was gone. Principal Bracegirdle, who had done nothing but allow Lotho to torment Frodo for nearly two years, was gone. He couldn’t wait to tell Frodo.

So he didn’t. As they walked back to the cafeteria, he held his phone to his ear.

“ _Hello_?”

“Mr. Baggins, its Aragorn. Can I talk to Frodo? I’ve amazing news!”

_Frodo_

Bilbo looked far too pleased and was on the phone, grinning brightly. Frodo still couldn’t believe it. Lotho was expelled and Principal Bracegirdle was fired.

It seemed too much like a dream…

But it wasn’t. It was real and he knew it each time he pinched his arm to check. He looked at Bilbo. “You planned it, didn’t you?” Bilbo stared at him, still grinning. Frodo arched an eyebrow and Bilbo sat beside him on the bed.

“Pop and I _both_ planned it. Olorin’s an old friend of _both_ our families. Your pop and I probably wouldn’t have met if not for that old coot. His methods, you’ve noticed, are a bit…strange. But he did what he promised to do and right now, I’m glad we asked him to look into it.”

“So…you’ll be taking the principal’s job?”

“Uhm. No. I prefer teaching rather than overseeing _other_ teachers. So no. While some students do make me wonder, there _are_ those who make me glad to be a teacher.”

“There’s still that Sméagol guy.”

Bilbo sighed. “You let me and Pop worry about him, okay? He won’t be coming close to you again without…dire consequence.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“It should!” Bilbo said. “The cocaine would’ve addled him more than I thought if he dared to attack you again. Especially since it’s me he wants.”

“What did you do to him anyway?”

Bilbo sighed. “Well, I didn’t do anything he didn’t deserve. He…he killed his cousin or something like that…all for a stupid ring.”

“So he’s just angry you turned him in?”

“I’m afraid so. He thinks I betrayed and robbed him.” He ruffled Frodo’s hair. “Want something to eat that’s _not_ from the cafeteria?”

Frodo’s eyes lit up. “God yes!”

_Fourteen Weeks Later_

Frodo never thought he’d ever get the chance to explore Rivendell. Rivendell was larger than the Shire, anyway, with its own districts and shops…

Aragorn was adamant that Frodo see _everything_. His enthusiasm made Frodo think he had been a little bit homesick. He wouldn’t blame him. It wasn’t the same, but Frodo missed his old house. Not that the new one was bad—it was a nice house and his parents liked it.

But it wasn’t the same.

“Here you are,” Aragorn said, holding a cup of fro-yo toward him. Light brown fro-yo. Frodo arched an eyebrow brow. “It’s butterscotch. They didn’t have vanilla.”

“The heathens,” Frodo griped, taking the cup from him. “Thanks, anyway.” Aragorn sat beside him and stretched. “I don’t know if I ever remembered to thank you for inviting me.”

“You were complaining about overbearing parents and I’ve missed _mine_ , oddly enough, so I felt this was a good compromise. However, Dad’ll be heading to Scotland for a couple weeks. Just us and my siblings. Kind of.”

“Don’t tell my parents,” Frodo said. The only way he managed to convince them both to let him stay in Rivendell for a couple weeks was by promising that it’d be supervised by Aragorn’s father.

“Why would I?”

“Forget it…they probably already know,” Frodo sighed. Aragorn laid his head on Frodo’s shoulder.

“I love you, you know. And if you think they’ll be coming to get you before my Dad leaves, that kind of cuts things a bit shorter than I’d like them to be.”

“I know,” Frodo sighed, stirring the melting butterscotch ice cream.

“I don’t get nearly enough chances to hold you,” he whispered. Frodo almost shivered as chills crawled up his spine. “And I’d like to before you have to leave without the risk of being walked in on by anyone.”

His siblings were all travelling elsewhere with friends—or visiting grandparents in Arwen’s case—and his father was at work overseeing the summer school students.

“Aragorn, not here,” he said, blushing.

“He’s not leaving for another two or three days…”

Frodo nodded, still stirring. “Enough time to recover?”

“Hm?” Aragorn straightened, staring at him. Frodo bit his lip. He turned to Aragorn.

“I want to have sex with you,” He whispered. “Anal sex.” Aragorn’s eyes widened. He swallowed.

“Are you sure?”

“I am.” Frodo licked his lips. “And I know we’ve never done it before but I trust you.”

“You’ve been looking for more advice on it, haven’t you?” Aragorn asked, arching a brow. Frodo nodded. “Again, at the risk of sounding like a broken record: _are you sure_? What if something goes terribly wrong? What if you start bleeding and have to go to the hospital? What if—”

“Would you rather _I_ be on top? Cuz I’m pretty sure I’m a bottom. Not that I’d _mind_ ,” Frodo said, a smile growing on his face. “But I’m willing to do this if you are. I mean, does anyone _really_ know what they’re doing the first time?”

Aragorn sighed and chewed his lip. “What do we need? What do _I_ need if I’m going to top? Cuz _I’m pretty sure_ I’m _not_ a bottom.” Frodo beamed.

#

Frodo hated how nervous he felt as he left the bathroom and joined Aragorn on the bed, his hands trembling. His only reassurance came from the same hesitation that was in Aragorn’s eyes. He hoped the instructions he gave Aragorn before he went to take a shower had been enough.

On the bedside table were a few condom packets, a bottle of KY lube, and a bowl of steaming water left to cool. Frodo straddled his waist. “If you hurt too much, tell me. We’ll stop,” Aragorn said.

Frodo nodded.

Aragorn sat up to kiss him, gripping his shoulders tightly. Frodo’s towel loosening around him as they laid back down. Aragorn’s grip lessened and his hands slid to Frodo’s sides, fingers pulling the towel away and letting it drop to the floor. Frodo’s hands trailed massaged Aragorn’s chest and shoulders. He slid the tip of his tongue against the seam of Aragorn’s mouth. Lips parted and he slipped his tongue inside, tracing the grooves of Aragorn’s hard palate before their tongues began to dance.

Frodo pulled away to catch his breath and Aragorn rolled them over, his hands sliding over Frodo’s legs and pushing them to Frodo’s shoulders. He pressed the pad of his index finger against Frodo’s hole and paused. He lifted himself off Frodo grabbing the lube while Frodo shifted to prop up on his knees and elbows. Frodo bowed his head between his elbows, heart beat quickening as Aragorn pressed his finger against the entrance, slowly pushing inward. Frodo hissed in a breath and forced himself to keep relaxed. But _God_ it stung!

“I don’t…”

“I’ll tell you when I’m okay with another,” Frodo said, “Would that work?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Um…if you like…you could move it,” Frodo hated how much he blushed and was thankful Aragorn didn’t see. The finger pushed in deeper, then slowly came out and back in. The stinging ebbed and he allowed Aragorn to add in another. More lube, the sting returning, slow, languid thrusts…repeat. Aragorn’s touch became surer. Frodo sighed, pushing back on the fingers stretching him open, occasionally promising Aragorn he was _all right, don’t stop, keep going…_

Frodo felt his climax build. He fought it down and groaned, half relieved and half frustrated at the lack of completion. Aragorn pulled his fingers out. Frodo counted the seconds before he felt the press of Aragorn’s cock against his ass.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Frodo said, “I’m fine, just _please_ …”

Aragorn pushed into him. Frodo gasped, digging his fingers into the sheets. Aragorn gripped his hips tightly, trying to keep control. Frodo pushed back against him, heart beating fast, cock throbbing between his legs, backside stinging. Aragorn rolled his hips experimentally and Frodo moaned.

“Remember to tell me if it hurts,” Aragorn whispered. Frodo nodded, eyes watering. Aragorn’s thrusts picked up in pace, his chest pressed to Frodo’s back. Frodo moaned. It hurt, but it was bearable. He could bear it, _wanted_ to bear it. He reached between his legs with a shaking hand and stroked his cock. Aragorn kissed between his shoulder blades.

“I love you,” Aragorn whispered. “Frodo…”

Frodo cried out, drenching himself and the sheets below him in come

“Fuck!” Aragorn cursed, stilling.

“W-wha?” Frodo slurred.

“You’re squeezing around me. _Fuck_ , it’s tight! It was _before_ , but _this_!” Frodo relaxed, then tightened again almost cautiously. “ _Frodo—oh fuck…_ ” Fingers squeezed his hips again and when Frodo relaxed, Aragorn thrust a little harder—Frodo’s vision blurred and he cried out again—and stilled. “Okay?”

“Yes…keep going…” He resumed the slow, careful thrusts, Frodo groaned. “ _Faster!_ ” he ordered and Aragorn obeyed.

The bed nearly rocked and Frodo clawed at the soiled sheets. Aragorn gasped and Frodo felt Aragorn’s cock twitching within him. Aragorn slid out carefully. He rolled onto his back and Frodo relaxed, letting his legs and arms collapse. He felt relaxed and loose, pressing against Aragorn.

“Wasn’t so bad,” Frodo said.

“Bit…fast.”

“Yeah, a bit, but not bad. Could’ve been worse.” Aragorn groaned and Frodo chuckled. “I kinda wish I wore a condom.”

“We need to change the sheets?”

“Yeah.”

“Later,” Aragorn said, sitting up to remove the condom he wore. He tied it and tossed it in the bin, pulling Frodo on top of him. Frodo lay his head on Aragorn’s breast, listening to the fast beat of his lover’s heart, feeling the rise and fall of his chest and the heat he radiated.

 _Shake Me Break Me_ played quietly in the background, barely audible compared to the beat of Aragorn’s heart. Frodo sighed and fell asleep.

_The End_


End file.
